


Scattered Moments

by orphan_account



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stories written for Fakiru Week over the years. Themes range from tragic to fluff and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yellow - 2013

The picnic had been Ahiru’s idea. They were a favored date activity of hers, after all, ever since she’d seen Rue and Mytho go on one. This time, however, she’d gotten it in her head that an evening picnic would be fun and romantic. Fakir had been slightly skeptical at first, but had inevitably agreed to it after a little persuasion, because Ahiru was nothing if not irresistible. So he’d bought some candles and they’d made their plans, and here they were at last.

They left the house just as the sun was finally setting; it hung low in a sky streaked with vivid shades of amber and scarlet that seemed to foreshadow the autumn foliage they would be seeing before too much longer. Summer still had a firm enough hold that it was a warm evening, however, and the encroaching darkness brought no chill with it. Fakir carried the basket laden with food and drink and candles, while Ahiru bounced along happily beside him with their duck-patterned blanket draped over her arms. The dying sunlight sparkled faintly on the surface of the lake when they emerged from the trees, and Ahiru stopped to stare at it for a moment before hurrying to catch up to Fakir.

“I’m not sure if I like sunsets or not,” she remarked as he helped her spread the blanket on the grass. “They’re really pretty, but they’re also kinda sad in a way, you know? But then nighttime is really pretty too cause you get to see the moon and all the stars and everything. I kind of wish there was a duck constellation, though. I know there’s that wild duck cluster cause I looked it up in a book, but that’s not a constellation, so it isn’t the same thing.”

“Make one up, then.” Fakir began to switch on the little flameless candles they’d bought, and set them around the blanket. It was the safest way to get the effect they wanted – they could shed flickering golden light on the both of them without the risk of starting a fire if Ahiru accidentally knocked one over. “Pick stars that fit together in the right shape and call it what you like.”

“Can I really do that?” Ahiru knelt and began to unpack the food from the basket. “I mean, nobody’ll know about it but us and it kinda feels weird to do it.”

“Why? That’s how the ones people recognize came about – they assigned characters and stories to the way the stars they saw in the sky were arranged. They won’t even last forever, because the stars we see today will someday go out, and new ones will have been birthed elsewhere.” Fakir shrugged and sat down on the blanket. “So find your little duck, and it’ll be all yours.”

“Will you make up a story about it for me when I do?” Ahiru asked as she arranged food on their plates. They’d brought cheese sandwiches, hot roasted potatoes wrapped in foil, Ahiru’s favorite beet salad, and some sugar cookies for dessert, as well as bottles of lemonade to wash it all down with. Fakir had made all of it save for the cookies, which Ahiru had insisted on baking as a way to help. They were slightly overdone, but Fakir had told her it was fine, as he preferred crunchier cookies anyway. “It’d be more complete like that, like the real ones.”

“I’ll tell you one for it right now.” Fakir stared up at the sky, where some of the first stars were beginning to emerge as day faded into night. “Once upon a time, there was a brave little duck, who transformed into a human girl and fought to save her hometown from an evil wizard. She was small and weak, but also kind and courageous, and her perseverance paid off in the end. The town was saved, thanks to her tireless efforts, and she was its heroine.”

“Fakir…” Ahiru whispered, a smile and a blush growing on her face.

“Afterwards, however, she returned to being a duck, having lost the ability to change her shape, and no one remembered her valor, save for one person: a writer who could spin his words into truth and reshape reality.” Fakir took a few bites of the food Ahiru had placed on his plate and swallowed them down before continuing. “The writer deeply loved the little duck, and mourned bitterly that the townspeople knew nothing of their savior. He felt it unfair to her and all that she had accomplished. So he took up his pen and rearranged some of the very stars in the sky to resemble her form, in hopes that those who gazed upon the new constellation might feel a stirring at the corner of their memories. In time, those stirrings might give way to tales and legends, and thus preserve her story even beyond the shadows of it that he wove into his own works.”

“Oh, Fakir, that’s beautiful!” Ahiru beamed at him, and in the candlelight he could just barely see the blush on her cheeks. “I – I don’t know if I really deserve to be a constellation or anything, but that was so pretty!”

He could think of a thousand supposed heroes from various myths that deserved it less than she did. “Thanks. It was really only something I came up with off the top of my head, though.” Fakir focused his attention on his food again, hoping to hide the faint blush he thought he could feel creeping across his own face. “If I sat down and took my time over it, it’d be much better.”

“I really like it as it is, but if you ever do write it down, I’d love to read it,” Ahiru said shyly as she picked up her fork and began to dig into her own food. “You always write such wonderful stories.”

Now he was definitely blushing. “Th-thanks.”

They ate mostly in silence after that, punctuated only by the occasional comment by Ahiru complimenting Fakir’s cooking, or talking about what a pretty evening it was and how much fun she was having. A little bit of gentle teasing and prodding got Fakir to admit that he was enjoying himself too despite having been initially skeptical about the idea. He playfully drew out his feigned reticence so as to seem reluctant to say so, but was more than happy to let Ahiru have her victory, and couldn’t help but smile at her as she basked in her joy over having come up with something that was fun for the both of them.

By the time they finished their cookies and drained the last of the lemonade from the bottles, night had completely fallen and wiped away all traces of the day. Countless stars were visible now, twinkling merrily in the dark sky, and wispy grey patches of cloud slid aside to reveal a gleaming full moon. Closer to the ground, tiny, flickering golden lights began to appear amongst the trees and then flew towards the lake, spreading their gentle glow in all directions as they flitted out to explore their surroundings.

“Oh!” Ahiru clapped her hands together as she saw the fireflies soaring around them. “I – I was hoping they’d come out!” She rummaged around in their picnic basket and produced an empty jar she’d hidden away at the bottom. “I want to catch some!” She bounded up and ran off across the grass, unscrewing the lid as she went and miraculously not kicking over any candles. The yellow ribbons she’d woven into her braided updo to match the sunflowers on her dress streamed behind her as she ran, and Fakir watched her for a moment before getting up and following her.

He caught up to her just as she tripped over a rock and fell, sending her jar flying onto the ground. He managed to catch her in his arms before she joined it on the grass, and helped her stand up straight. “Are you all right? You shouldn’t run around like that in the dark, idiot – you can’t see where you’re going.” Not that that prevented her from tripping in full daylight, either, but it was especially hazardous at night.

Ahiru shook her head, and he felt a brief stab of worry that she’d gotten hurt before she spoke. “N-no. It – it’s not working. I can’t catch any!” Her lower lip trembled, and in the faint light of the moon he could see tears in her eyes. “I – I wanted to catch some in the jar and bring them home and they could light up at night in the window and look all pr-pretty, but it’s so hard to catch them. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Shhhh. It’s all right.” Fakir wiped at her cheeks as some of the tears leaked out. “You couldn’t have kept them forever, anyway – you’d have had to let them out in a couple days or they would have died. They’re better off here.” He couldn’t help picturing Ahiru standing on her toes in their kitchen, though, a delighted expression on her face as she watched fireflies flitting around in a jar on the windowsill as dusk fell, and something sparked at the back of his memory.

“Oh.” Ahiru blinked several times, freeing some more tears to drip onto her face. “I – I didn’t think about that, I didn’t know I’d have to do that. That would be sad if they died and didn’t get to come back here.”

“See? They’re happier this way.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “If you really want to bring some home for a day or so, though, we’ll get a net and come back here tomorrow night. They’ll be easier to catch that way.”

“O-okay.” Ahiru smiled up at him. “Lemme get my jar, then, and then I – I kinda want to go sit on the dock, is that okay?”

“Of course.” If he was remembering right, he still had an old net for catching bugs packed away with his toys somewhere. It had been designed for children to use, but Ahiru’s hands were so small that it would work just fine. “We’ll find it together and then go to the dock.”

He kissed her again, but on her mouth this time, and she tasted some of the sugar from the cookies on his lips. They lingered there for a moment, just kissing, and then after that he helped her find both jar and lid in the grass. They returned it to the picnic basket, Fakir thinking all the while about which box his old net was likely to be in, along with the rest of the things they’d brought. Once they’d packed everything up, Ahiru led the way to the dock where they had so often come before her return to humanity so that she could swim in the water while he sat and wrote stories. She took off her shoes before sitting on the edge, letting her bare feet brush the surface of the water. It was nice and cool, and felt good on her toes. Fakir removed his shoes as well, and rolled up his pants so that they wouldn’t get wet before sitting down beside her. He put his arm around her, and she let out a happy little sigh as she leaned into him.

“It’s so pretty,” Ahiru murmured, her eyes on where the full moon cast a pale, pearlescent sheen on the lake’s calm surface. “The water looks so different at night, and it kinda seems quieter too, or – or magical. Like a fairy lake or something.”

“A fairy lake, where magic ducks live.” He nuzzled the top of her head. “Sounds like a good story.”

Ahiru giggled. “Are you going to write that?”

“Maybe.” Fakir stared thoughtfully out at the lake. “I don’t know if it would be its own story, or if it would be the origin of the duck in the constellation story.”

“But that was a true story, I thought. Well, except for the rearranging stars part.”

“A true story with embellishments, yes… and no one but us would know it’s true, anyway.” His gaze moved upwards, to the star-laden sky. “It might make a good fairy tale once you’ve found your duck.”

“Do you think I will?”

“I don’t see why not.” Fakir shrugged. “There are so many stars out there that you’re bound to find something you can say is a duck constellation.”

“I hope so.” Ahiru snuggled closer to him. “I’m not so good at spotting the real ones, so it might be hard for me.”

“I can help you, if you want. I used to have a hard time with it too, but it gets easier when you know what you’re looking for.”

“Really?” She peered up at him. “Are – are there any we can see right now?”

“Yeah. Here, I’ll show you,” he said, reaching over with his free hand to take one of hers. He curled her tiny fingers down, all except for her index finger, which he used to point at a particular star. “See that? That’s Vega. It’s the brightest star in Lyra, the harp. Which is shaped like this.” He traced lines with her finger from star to star to show her the shape of the constellation. “Do you see it now?”

“Yes!” Ahiru beamed, and he smiled fondly down at her. “Are there any others?”

“Mmmhmm.” He nodded. “Over here.” He directed her finger to another star a bit lower in the sky. “That’s Altair, and it’s the brightest star in Aquila, the eagle.” He traced the shape of that one too. “And over here…” He pointed to another star. “Is Deneb, the brightest star in Cygnus, the swan.” He showed her each star in that one, and then laid their hands down on his lap and twined his fingers through hers. “We’ll be able to get a good look at different ones every month, so we should keep coming back here at night if you want to see them all.”

“Oh, I do!” Ahiru kicked at the water excitedly, sending up little splashes that seemed to sparkle in the starlight. “Can we? That sounds really fun! I mean I know we’ll have to bundle up when it gets cold but we can bring hot stuff to drink and keep each other warm and I like that too.”

“Of course.” He squeezed her hand. “And we’ll keep looking for your duck, too, because there’s no way of knowing what season it shows up in.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!” She tugged on his hand and brought it to her lips so that she could press a tender kiss to it. “Y-you know, if – if I ever really _did_ become a constellation for real, I’d want you to be up there with me, right next to me. I couldn’t bear it if we were separated like that.”

“Don’t worry.” Fakir squeezed her hand. “Even if that happened, I’d come find you. I’d search in all the galaxies and ask every other constellation if they’d seen you, and I wouldn’t give up until I was by your side again.”

In other words, he really would rearrange the stars for her. Ahiru found herself blinking back tears as she realized it. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the same time, though. “A-and then people would see us together, and they’d make up stories about us.”

Fakir kissed her hand. “Do you want me to put that into the story about the duck constellation?”

“Yes, please.” Ahiru nodded. “And – and don’t forget to include that the duck loved the writer too, cause you forgot that part earlier, and that she was really happy when he came and found her, and it made her shine even brighter.”

“Her stars shone like gold in the night sky, echoing her earthly feathers, because her joy at being reunited with her true love was so great.” Fakir looked down at her. “Is – is that okay?” She could see him starting to blush. “I mean, I’ll refine it when I write it down, and if you don’t like it, I’ll –”

Ahiru interrupted him by kissing him on the cheek. “It’s perfect.”


	2. Mistake - 2013

Making Ahiru human again had not been a quick and easy process, nor had the decision to try been one swiftly arrived at.

First of all, it had had to occur to him in the first place. That had taken time. He’d meant what he said to her beneath the lake, after all, and his powers were something he didn’t feel in complete control of, so making the leap to the idea of transforming her with his writing had been anything but immediate.

As time went on, however, something began to bother him. He wasn’t sure what until he saw her with the other ducks at the lake one day and how her behavior differed from theirs. For the first time, he thought, he _really_ thought, about how unlike a duck she was in everything but form. She understood what he said to her, she read things, she tried to dance and to communicate. He also caught her more than once looking longingly at the Academy, at people they passed on the way to or from the lake who were students there. Moreover, she wasn’t aging like a duck – according to all the books, she should’ve lost her duckling fluff and gotten her adult feathers in already, but she hadn’t. That, combined with her human behavior, made him start to wonder if she was truly content and if there was something he could do for her. The last thing he wanted was for her to be unhappy, after all. At last, the idea had come to him one afternoon while sitting at his desk at home, when he was supposed to be working on a story for his writing class. Instead, he was looking at Ahiru as she napped on the windowsill and thinking about what he could do to help her be happy, and the sight of the pen in his hand when he sighed and glanced down with the intent to resume work made it all click in his brain.

After the initial rush of excitement over the sudden inspiration passed, he’d had to give serious thought as to _why_ he wanted to do it. There were selfish reasons of course, like wanting to hear her voice again, or see her smile, or to be able to dance with her once more, but those couldn’t be the only reasons or it would be wrong to transform her. It would make him as bad as Drosselmeyer, and the last thing Fakir wanted was to become like Drosselmeyer. No, his intentions had to be primarily pure and unselfish. It was true that they were no longer living in a fairy tale, but when it came to using powers like these, it made sense to abide by fairy tale rules. Otherwise, he risked harming her, and that was the last thing he wanted.

In the end he was able to determine that his desire to do this for her was just that: for her, and not for himself. As much as he missed things about her human form, he found that he cared more that _she_ probably missed the things she’d been able to do while in it, if those looks he’d seen her directing towards the Academy and her former classmates were any indication (and weren’t just his imagination). He knew that when she’d been struggling to remove the pendant, it had been because of a fear of being left alone, of losing all the things she’d come to cherish about her life as a human girl. Ordinary, mundane things like learning ballet and going to school and being with her friends. If she still wanted all those things for herself, then he wanted them for her, and felt she deserved to have them. And besides, he knew she didn’t feel the same way about him that he did about her, and he didn’t expect her to, so it wasn’t about that either. He wasn’t after some kind of reward, he really did just want her to be happy. His desire for her happiness superseded all else; realizing that eased his mind enough for him to begin thinking about how and when to broach the subject with her.

Because there was no way that he would, or should, do this without making absolutely certain that it really was what she wanted. That wouldn’t be fair or right either. If she had settled into her life as a duck and wanted to remain that way, if she no longer desired the trappings of humanity, then he would respect that and not take it away from her. It was her body that was going to change, so it had to be her choice. At the same time, the fact that she hadn’t asked him about it wasn’t an indicator either way about her feelings on the matter, so he also couldn’t assume that that meant she didn’t want to be human again. Ahiru… was selfless almost to a fault, and tended to put everyone else’s wishes above her own. She had sunk into despair – literally – over finally wanting something for herself for once. Moreover, she knew about his history with his powers and his mixed feelings about them. If she still wanted to return to human form, she was unlikely to ask him to do it out of both her selflessness and her knowledge and understanding of his past. He would have to be the one to bring it up.

It was early one evening when they finally discussed it, just after dinner. Ahiru had noticed that something seemed to be weighing on his mind of late, and that night finally nudged him with a questioning look in her eyes when she saw him drifting off into his own little world again. Fakir’s first instinct was to tell her it was nothing, that he was just thinking about another story to write, because he wasn’t sure that this was the right time. He realized, though, that if he kept thinking that way the “right time” might never come along. So he pushed past his remaining anxieties on the matter as best he could, drew a deep breath, and began to explain his offer to her as he used his pen to open up the mental connection between them. It wasn’t the best explanation, and he frequently stumbled over his words and had to backtrack to better clarify himself. But in the end he managed to get his intentions across well enough to be understood, and fell silent as he waited for her answer.

She was quiet at first, and then hesitantly admitted that yes, she _did_ still think about the friends she had lost and the school she had attended, the pointe shoes she had never gotten. He prodded her a little – did she still want those things? Or was it simply wistful remembrances, and she was fine living out her life the way it was now? She hemmed and hawed over the questions, and it took more prodding before she finally confessed that yes, she did still long to study ballet with her friends, and get her pointe shoes, and do all the normal human things that everyone she knew did. She qualified it with more than one _but_ , though: she didn’t want to be selfish, she didn’t want to ask for too much after what they’d agreed about going back to their true selves. She didn’t want to ask him to do something like that for her because she knew how he felt about using his powers and that would be such a greedy thing to do, because while it was one thing to ask him to use them to save the town, it was quite another to ask him to use them for something that would benefit her alone and she didn’t feel right doing that. It was all exactly as he’d guessed it might be.

Fakir waited until she seemed to be done with her babbling to speak again. Yes, he told her, yes, he was still nervous about using his powers. There was no point in denying it. But if she truly did want to be human again, then he was more than willing to set aside his fears and try for her, because she deserved it after all that she’d done for everyone else. She protested that she didn’t need anything in return for what she had done for the town and the prince, that she had done it all for their sakes and not because she wanted something for herself from it. Yes, he knew that, he told her. And it was selfish, she said, to want that for herself, especially when this was her true form and she’d agreed to return to it. She couldn’t ask for that, particularly not when getting her human form back required him to do something she knew had been the source of so much pain in his life. It just wasn’t right of her to want that for herself.

Forget right or wrong, he said; do you want it or not? I’m not going to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, but I need to know for sure either way, and if you do really want it you shouldn’t give up on it or talk yourself out of it for stupid reasons. She tried again to demur, and he had to do yet more prodding to get her to admit that yes, she did want to be a girl again. She started to qualify it with another _but_ , and he interrupted her to say that that was all she needed to say: that she truly wanted it. Because it was okay to want things for herself, it didn’t make her selfish, or at least no more selfish than the rest of the human race. Everyone wanted things for themselves, and that was natural and normal. It was part of the human experience. And anyway, he’d already told her that he was fine with using his powers to try and give her human life back to her, so she shouldn’t worry about that. He wouldn’t have offered it to her in the first place if he was uncomfortable or unwilling to do it for her, after all. If it made her feel better, he added, she could think of it not as a reward for what she did, but as one last act of defiance against Drosselmeyer, who’d given her humanity with the intention all along of taking it away, purely to make her suffer for the sake of his precious tragedy. He’d taken so much from her in pursuit of that; it was all right for her to want some of it back. She’d risked her life to give everyone else a happy ending, and now it was time for her to decide what would constitute _her_ happy ending. And whatever she chose, he assured her, he’d support her and would continue to stay by her side either way.

That seemed to do the trick, for the most part – she was still hesitant, but it only took a tiny bit of prodding for her to come clean about her true feelings. Yes, she said, yes, I do still want those things, so much. I want to study ballet and get my pointe shoes and be friends with Pike and Lilie again, and do all the things a human girl can do.  She still didn’t feel right about asking him to do that for her, but if he was really sure, then she’d be happy to accept his offer. Maybe it wasn’t her true self, and maybe it was a betrayal of what they’d agreed to do in order to end the story, but it didn’t stop her wanting those things. She was ashamed of it, but couldn’t deny that it was what she longed for.

This time, it was Fakir’s turn to be quiet for a moment as he pondered something. Ahiru wondered at his silence, and when he spoke again, it seemed as much to be thinking aloud as it was talking to her. Had she ever, he asked, been an ordinary duck? Had that ever really been the case? What did she remember about her life before Drosselmeyer had pulled her into the story, forced the role of Princess Tutu onto her? Not much, she told him. Her memories of those days were hazy and indistinct, formless shadows in the mist. However, she was fairly certain of the fact that she had always, or nearly always, been able to think and form thoughts the way she did now, in a human way. It had been strange, she said, to return to the lake after the story’s end and meet other ducks, and find that their thought processes were much simpler than hers, that they weren’t capable of feeling as she did, to see that they were aging faster than she was. She had worried at first that her ability to think and feel like a human was something Drosselmeyer had done to her and that it would fade away in time, leaving her with no memory of her experiences as a human girl or of Fakir. The idea of that happening had scared her. But as more and more time passed and she experienced no loss of memory or emotion, and continued to be able to think as clearly as ever, her fears calmed and she realized that this was how she’d always been and would always be. She didn’t know why, but she wasn’t inclined to question it, in case that made it go away. Weren’t there fairy tales where someone got too curious and looked at something they shouldn’t have and suffered for it, after all? She didn’t want that to happen to her too.

That made sense, he told her, before she could inquire as to whether or not he thought that was superstitious and silly. He had briefly entertained anxieties about the same thing, but had soothed the fear by reminding himself that if it was going to happen, it would’ve taken effect immediately after the story’s end. And if she really had always been like this, he continued, a duck with the heart of a human girl, then it wasn’t a betrayal of what they’d agreed to do to end the story. She tilted her little feathered head at that and asked: how so? He explained: her being a duck with a human heart meant that what her “true self” was, was not as clear-cut as being the body she had been born into. Furthermore, she hadn’t made the choice herself to be born as a duck. Hadn’t they put their lives on the line so that everyone else could choose how to live theirs? Why shouldn’t she have a choice as to how to live hers? And look at Rue – she had fought against an identity imposed on her nearly since her birth, and decided that the real her was indeed Rue, the identity she had created for herself. Didn’t Ahiru deserve to have the same chance, if she wanted it? Her dual nature meant that she could live in either world and still be true to herself, as long as it was her heart’s true desire. And he reiterated again that he was willing to do whatever he could do to help her find her happiness, whatever form it came in.

Then my answer is yes, she said, and there was something shy about her tone. Yes, please… if it’s really okay, then please, do this for me, Fakir. It would make me happy. She started to say that it would be all right if he changed his mind, she would understand if he really wasn’t comfortable after all because it wasn’t as if she _hated_ living like this, with him, but she abruptly fell silent when he smiled at her and rubbed her head. He wasn’t, he told her, going to lie and say that he was free of fear about the process. But he was more than willing to stand up to that fear and try to do this for her sake, because it was what she really wanted. He’d sworn to stay by her side forever, and not only did he intend to keep that promise, but he had always meant for it to encompass supporting her and her wishes in any way he could. This was part of it.

She got a little teary-eyed at that, and thanked him profusely while saying that she didn’t deserve such kindness. So he held her close and stroked her feathers and assured her that yes, she did. And when her tears were dry, he smiled at her and said that it was getting late, so did she want him to read the next chapter of the book they were reading now? She nodded, and he set her down to wait while he changed into sleep clothes before settling down on his bed with her cradled in one arm and the book in his other hand.

The decision had thus been made, with both of them certain that this was what Ahiru wanted, and that Fakir was willing to attempt it for her sake. However, even then, it wasn’t as easy as simply putting pen to paper and voila, Ahiru was a human girl again. Fakir knew better than anyone how badly things could go wrong if he used his powers carelessly. Even in normal writing, it was important to choose your words carefully, lest your meaning not be properly conveyed and the message lost; when trying to alter reality with your words, it was all the more vital. He was fully aware of the fact that it could very well _literally_ be a matter of life and death if he wasn’t conscientious of this and took care to get it right. Getting it wrong didn’t just mean that a hypothetical audience would be confused by a particular passage. It meant terrible repercussions for Ahiru. Therefore, he _needed_ to put serious thought and planning into how to write this well before he ever picked up a quill.

He set about doing that with the intent to think calmly and carefully about how he would accomplish the transformation. And at first, he did. But as time went on his fears crept up on him more and more, and his mind began to spin all kinds of horrible scenarios about the many ways it could go wrong if he made the slightest error in his writing. He tried to fight it off, but eventually the fear he felt during his daytime brainstorming sessions seeped into his sleep at night and he starting having nightmares about the myriad possible ways that he could cause real damage to Ahiru if he made even one mistake in his writing.

It didn’t take Ahiru long to notice that something was wrong, though, and she prodded him to confide in her about whatever it was. He opened up to her about the nightmares and the worries reluctantly, concerned deep down that speaking of what he had been going through would cause her to rescind her agreement to this, once again sacrificing her chance at happiness for someone else’s sake. And Ahiru did indeed try to offer to change her mind, saying that she didn’t want him to suffer like this on her account and that if he really wasn’t comfortable at all, he shouldn’t push himself to do this for her. He started to protest, to insist that he simply needed to get through this and that he really did want to do it for her, but she interrupted him and kept talking.

It’s all right, she said, if you’re not comfortable trying this for me. I understand. But if you’re really sure you want to, if it’s really okay, then there’s something I need you to understand: I’m not afraid. Even if it doesn’t work or if you accidentally turn me into something unexpected, I’ll be okay and I won’t be mad at you. I’m not afraid of that, though, because I believe in you. And I know that even if you somehow do mess up and make me into something weird, you’ll still stay by my side no matter what. Won’t you?

Of course I will, he told her, nodding. You never have to worry about that. She replied that that meant, then, that _he_ had nothing to worry about, because whatever happened, she would be okay. They would be okay. They’d still have each other, and that was all that mattered.

He had to concede that she was right, and it calmed his fears enough that he began to feel ready to make his attempt. He was still as cautious as he could be, though, and refused to let himself ease up and thus possibly make mistakes. He practiced with smaller things, to see if he could do it successfully. He labored over every word of the story that would hopefully restore Ahiru’s human form to her, second-guessing every choice and never once feeling fully confident in his skills as he slowly, slowly inched towards the end. But bit by bit it came together, and with a trembling hand he wrote the final words and deemed it as, for better or worse, finished.

All the fears that had plagued him came to naught in the end, much to his relief.  Ahiru’s transformation was smooth, painless, and without flaw, and Ahiru herself was overjoyed, as was he. It almost seemed too good to be true though, and beneath the joy he harbored fears that it would all turn out to be a dream, or that something would soon go wrong. But when they awoke the next morning, she was still in human form and looked and felt exactly as she should. As the days passed and no complications reared their ugly heads, he began to finally relax, and took pleasure in the delight she felt and freely expressed given half the chance.

The transition back into actually living as a human was less smooth, however. His foster father was happy to have her live with them in one of the spare bedrooms, so that wasn’t an issue, at least, but she also needed to have her own clothes, and other necessities, and voiced no small amount of guilt over the fact that she had no money to pay for them herself and had to depend on them for such things. Then there was the matter of enrolling at the Academy: she had to if she was going to resume her study of ballet, but it would be trickier now without Drosselmeyer manipulating reality to insert her into the student body. Fakir was forced to write into existence the essential documents that she lacked – such as a birth certificate – in order for her to be admitted. It was a dishonest and frankly risky thing to do, legally, but in the end they passed muster and she was soon attending classes once again, as she had so yearned to do.

That wasn’t the end of her difficulties, though. Ahiru was smart, if scatterbrained, and without the pressing matter of saving the prince and the town to distract her, she actually had time to study and put effort into her schoolwork and dancing, which she did enthusiastically. She was eager to make up for lost time and to discover what she could be good at if she tried, and to try and figure out what her other interests were. But she hadn’t had the experience of growing up as a human, and so there were inevitably gaps in her knowledge on all sorts of things. Not just on her subjects in school, but in smaller things like local traditions and lore, various human customs, all sorts of things that were common knowledge to everyone except her. Moreover, Ahiru had always been an awkward, clumsy girl, always tripping over her own feet and walking into walls, prone to babbling and stammering and saying odd things when she was nervous. She often lacked a filter, and even now still quacked sometimes when she was surprised (though no reversion to duck form accompanied it anymore, thankfully). His story to transform her hadn’t changed any of that, and he would never have wanted to: all those quirks were things he secretly found adorable about her (though he would never say so aloud). It was all part of what made her uniquely _Ahiru_ , and he loved her exactly the way she was, with no desire to change her. The very things that endeared her to him made her a target, though, for the cruel words and actions of unkind Academy students, who jeered and laughed at her and treated her like the school oddball. Even her so-called friend Lilie didn’t treat her much better, and filled her ears with damaging assertions about her. Why Ahiru had gone to so much trouble to reforge her friendship with her and Pike – particularly when it had been an artificial bond imposed on all of them by one of Drosselmeyer’s whims – he couldn’t understand, and one day he’d voiced that confusion. Ahiru had explained that they were important to her, that even though their friendship had started out as fake it had become real to her by the end, and she also felt like they maybe kinda remembered her deep down, because they’d accepted her into their dynamic right away upon her return to the school, whereas everyone else already had their own set groups that seemed hard, if not impossible, for her to find a place in. She added that she knew that probably sounded like settling and maybe it was, but she couldn’t help but care about them and miss the times they’d had together during the story. It was painful not to be able to talk about her memories of those days with them, but she still couldn’t give up on being friends with them and she thought it would be worse if she didn’t try and had to think about those times by herself while watching them from afar. He interrupted her statement about how he probably didn’t understand that to say that no, he did understand, he just hoped she wouldn’t let the things Lilie said get to her. She said she’d try not to, that she knew Lilie could be kind of weird sometimes, and she just accepted her for who she was. That ended the discussion, because he was certainly not going to argue against the forgiving, accepting nature that had allowed them to start being friends in the first place. Privately he still wished that she would find friends that treated her better, but it was her choice in the end and he’d respect it, and would support her by doing his best to counteract whatever dangerous nonsense Lilie tried to put in her head.

At the same time, even having friends she valued didn’t make it any less difficult to deal with the other students; it wasn’t a constant barrage of bullying, but there were days when she came home so dejected that Fakir wondered if they hadn’t made a mistake after all. It wasn’t fair, perhaps, to place all the blame on himself for the troubles Ahiru had, but he did anyway. It had been his power, after all, that had transformed her, giving her the ability to do the things she had missed doing but also making her life much more complicated than a duck’s ever could be. In addition, he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that some of the poor treatment she faced came from immature and unkind girls who, for whatever reason, seemed to idolize him, and thus were jealous of the newcomer who spent so much time with him. There was nothing he could do about that, of course, since he couldn’t control how other people felt, and the cold, standoffish demeanor he kept up while in school had so far done nothing to discourage any of them from fawning over him. It didn’t stop him from wallowing in guilt, though, or prevent fears that he had transformed her out of selfishness from resurfacing.

As with the nightmares, it didn’t take Ahiru long to realize that something was bothering Fakir. She gently coaxed him into confessing the guilt and anxiety he felt over the difficulties she was having, admitting that he wondered if they’d made a mistake, and talking about how he felt like he was to blame for all the things she’d been enduring lately. If she regretted the transformation, he was willing to turn her back; whatever she wanted, whatever would make her happy, he’d do without hesitation.

I am happy, though, she told him. I don’t regret the transformation, not at all. It was hard, sometimes, but that was just part of life as a human. She hadn’t expected everything to be easy, she knew that even people who had been born into human bodies suffered a lot of difficulties and setbacks and pain, and had problems and worries all their own. She hadn’t thought she’d be any different in that regard. Being human again meant that she had to accept and embrace the good with the bad, just like how, for Mytho, getting his heart back had meant accepting and embracing negative emotions along with the positive ones. She’d been prepared for all this from the moment she’d accepted Fakir’s offer. And none of it, not one bit, was Fakir’s fault. If there was one thing she insisted on more than anything else in that discussion, it was that he believe that and stop blaming himself.  She was going to live her life as best she could, just like every other human in the world, which meant dealing with both good and bad things, and he couldn’t protect her from all the bad things and shouldn’t try to. Not only that, but it was okay for him not to, and it didn’t make him a bad friend or anything.

He wanted to say something to that, but his train of thought was fatally derailed by noticing the slight stammer in her voice when she said the word “friend”, not to mention the tiny hint of a blush on her cheeks. Distracted by that odd behavior, he’d simply mumbled his assent when she asked him to promise not to feel guilty about any problems she had, most of his mind elsewhere. He was _sure_ it couldn’t possibly be an indicator of romantic feelings for him on her part, but he still couldn’t get it out of his mind, and couldn’t help but watch closely for more such moments. He was able to pass off most of the signs he saw from her as wishful thinking or merely his imagination, and he tried not to get his hopes up, but eventually there was too much to ignore. So at last, he decided one day to speak the words he’d hidden away within his heart for so long. He only hoped it wasn’t a mistake and that he wasn’t misreading her.

I love you, he told her. He didn’t think he’d ever been so scared of anything in his life prior to that moment.

And then fear turned to joy as Ahiru’s face lit up, her momentary shock melting away into blinding happiness. I love you too, she said, her eyes sparkling with happy tears. She threw her arms around him, and told him how truly happy he made her, and how she wouldn’t ever, ever trade the life she’d been given for anything else, because now that she was human they could do things that other couples did, and maybe that was selfish, but for once she felt okay about it because she was just so so happy. She would have babbled more in her excitement, but she was impatient to finally kiss him, and he wanted to finally kiss her, and so they did, bumping noses at first in their awkward haste but eventually finding their way to each other’s mouths.

They’d each made a lot of mistakes in their lives, and would continue to do so as the years went on. It was part of being human, after all. But this moment, and the decision for Ahiru to _become_ human that had led to it, were not among them.


	3. Modern - 2013

Rain drizzled steadily down the outside of the windows; on the inside, smiling cloth ghosts and grinning plastic pumpkins decorated the sills, staring cheerfully at all passersby. Some of the ghosts were misshapen, while others had lopsided eyes or smiles, giving away that they had been crafted by an inexperienced person, but that somehow made them seem more appealing. At least, they were to Fakir, who paused outside the door for just a moment to smile at them before turning the key in the latch and entering the home he shared with the person who’d made them.

“Hi, Fakir!” He’d barely gotten in the door before hearing Ahiru’s little feet hurrying in his direction. She beamed up at him from beneath the brim of a rumpled witch’s hat sitting slightly askew on her head. “How did the meeting go?”

Fakir shrugged. “Fairly well.” He closed his umbrella and hung it beside Ahiru’s familiar duck one before shrugging his coat off and hanging that up as well. “I managed to get an extension on the deadline for the next draft, so that’s good. All the same, though, I’m glad to be home.” He took hold of her wrist and gently tugged her close. She had an apron on over her dress, and a smudge of something on the tip of her nose, and it smelled like she’d been baking.

Ahiru giggled as he kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re back too, and that it went well. I’ve been decorating!”

“I noticed.” He touched the little smudge on her nose. “And baking, too – what did you make?”

“Cookies!” She pulled on his hand and led him to the kitchen. “I made chocolate chip ones cause they’re your favorite and I tried to decorate them with some frosting too so they could be Halloween cookies, I hope they came out okay, you know how I still sometimes mess things up when I’m on my own but I was really really careful and read the recipe a bunch of times and I already cleaned up. See?”

She had indeed already managed the cleanup from the cookie-baking. Mostly. There was still some flour on the counter and the floor, and he could see some tiny patches of spilled sugar, but he didn’t care. The cookies themselves were arranged on racks to cool, and looked properly baked and not burned, at least, so that was a good sign.

“I’ll taste-test, then,” Fakir said, and plucked one from the racks to try. It was always an act of bravery to try Ahiru’s food when she’d prepared it by herself, because she still sometimes messed up some key step or left out an important ingredient, or over or undercooked things. He looked down at the messily done frosting that adorned the cookie before taking a bite, and was rewarded for his courage: the frosting was sweet enough in combination with the chocolate that even he wouldn’t be able to eat too many at one time, but overall they were good. He nodded at her as she watched him anxiously. “They’re good. You did fine,” he said once he’d swallowed the first bite.

“Really? Oh, I’m so glad!” Ahiru clasped her hands together and smiled up at him. “Thank you! And oh! I can’t believe I almost forgot, I’m so sorry! It came!” She rushed over to the kitchen table and held up a rectangular package. “It’s your book! It finally got here!”

“Oh?” Fakir tried not to show the excitement mixed with nervousness that he always felt whenever an advance copy of a book he’d written, or written for, arrived as he took the package from her and began to rip it open. “You could’ve opened it, you know. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” Ahiru shook her head. “It’s your book, you wrote it, you should open it!”

“I wrote part of it,” Fakir corrected her. “It’s a collection of stories, remember?”

“Well, yours is obviously the most important one.” Ahiru giggled as she saw him blush a little. “It is to me, anyway.” She walked around to stand beside him and peered at the cover. It had a picture of a rose and a glass slipper on it, with the title and the list of contributing authors laid over it. She traced her finger over Fakir’s name, a look of pride in her eyes. “What kind of story did you write for this one?”

“I was asked to do a modern day retelling of a fairy tale.” Fakir sat down at the table to flip through it, and Ahiru sank into the chair beside him, scooting over to sit closer. “I went a slightly different path from the others and wove together a few different ones. I thought the editors were going to be angry, but they liked the idea.”

“Oooh, that sounds neat!” Ahiru leaned over, resting her head against his arm as she watched him look through the book. “Was it hard to do?”

“Not at all.” Fakir shook his head. “If anything, it was the easiest one yet. That’s what happens when you grow up actually living in a modern fairy tale.”

“Oh yeah, that’s true.” Ahiru sat back and wiped at the smudge on her nose with her apron. “It’s kinda funny, cause we’ve read all those books where there’s magic and fairies and stuff in the modern day world only most people don’t know it, but it actually is like that. Kinda. I mean, Drosselmeyer’s gone and everything and there’s no more animal people in the town but you can still use your powers cause I’m here and that one writer we really like is probably a Spinner too, right?”

“Yeah.” Fakir set the book down on the table and slid it over to Ahiru. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

Ahiru shook her head. “I was waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to. Thanks, though.” He headed towards the sink to wash his hands. “Sit and relax, I’ll fix us something.”

“Okay!” Ahiru traced her finger over the shiny cover again. It always gave her a special thrill to see Fakir’s name in print like this, to know that other people were going to get to enjoy his wonderful stories. Just like in their Academy days, he still had fans, though these didn’t bother him so much. For one thing, they were interested in his work, which he seemed to understand better than those who had clamored to date him. It was entirely different, despite being similar on the surface. “Anyway, um, what kind of setting did you use for your story?”

“I used this place – and some of the people we know – as a basis.” He dried his hands and rolled up his sleeves, his eyes focused on the little toy witch Ahiru had put in the kitchen window. Despite not being a big fan of scary stories, she loved decorating for Halloween with cute things, like her little homemade ghosts, and the few store-bought things she’d picked up too. She liked having candy and special treats too, and always made him sing the ballad of Tam Lin to her. “Which isn’t to say that I dislike settings where they have a sort of ‘timeless’ feel to them, but that wasn’t what the anthology editors were looking for.”

“Really?” Ahiru looked excited. “Who did you use as characters?”

“Why would I tell you before you’ve even read it?” He glanced at the cookies she’d made, smiling slightly to himself at the way she’d decorated them. Her efforts would never be award-winning, but she _tried_. He almost wished he’d been there, just because her look of intense concentration was so adorable. “That would spoil it.”

“That’s true! I do want it to be a surprise!” Ahiru swung her legs back and forth under the table. “Um, when do I get to read it?”

“Whenever you want. That’s why I left it there for you; go ahead and get started now if you’d like.”

“Really? It’s really okay?” Ahiru gingerly lifted the book up and stared at the cover. “I mean, it’s so nice and shiny and new and what if I accidentally get something on the pages or rip them or something and I ruin your copy?”

“Our copy,” he corrected her. “And don’t worry so much about that. What’s the point of a book that doesn’t get read?”

“I guess. Okay.” Ahiru gave the cover one last reverent stroke, over the loopy embossed font bearing Fakir’s name, and then opened it up. She went first to the table of contents and located his story, but stuck her finger in the book to mark her place while she found the dedications page at the front. And sure enough, there it was: “For Ahiru”. He dedicated everything he wrote to her, and it made her so happy every time she saw it. It was always just that, “For Ahiru”, never anything flowery or mushy, but she didn’t mind at all. She knew exactly what he was saying in those two words, and didn’t need anything else.

She read happily as Fakir prepared their meal, so absorbed in the story that she failed to notice that he frequently peeked at her to see her reactions. He looked often enough, in fact, that it was a minor miracle that he didn’t make some sort of mistake with the food. It was always nerve-wracking for him whenever she read a story of his for the first time, despite that she had yet to dislike one. He was always afraid she would, though, and feared seeing disappointment on her face.

He relaxed, though, as he saw her smile and laugh and gasp by turns, or frown at what he assumed were the right places. Ahiru recognized the characters for who they’d been based on – such as herself as the brave heroine, Lilie as her wicked stepsister, Rue as her kind stepsister, Mr. Cat as a Puss in Boots like figure, Uzura as a helpful little fairy – and was delighted by each one. She could also recognize plot elements from various fairy tales, thanks to all the stories she and Fakir had read together over the years, and marveled at the way he’d seamlessly woven them together. When she finally set the book down, she was beaming, and Fakir was pretending not to look at her as he brought over their lunch.

“So, what did you think?” he asked as she closed the book. He was trying to sound casual, but there was always something so shy about his voice whenever he asked her that at the end of a new tale, and it made her heart swell with affection for him.

“I loved it, of course!” Ahiru sprang up and hugged him just as he set down their drinks. He just barely managed to avoid spilling them. “What else would I think of it?”

“I – I don’t know.” He was turning red again. “You could always –”

“Don’t say I could hate it,” Ahiru interrupted. She let go of him so they could both sit down. “Cause I couldn’t, not ever.”  She moved the book well out of the way of their food, not wanting to spill anything on it by accident. “A-and you better read it to me later, okay? Cause it always sounds even better when you do that.”

Fakir nodded, his face still a little pink. “Yeah.” It was a tradition of theirs, held over from when she’d been a duck and he read to her every night.

“And, um…” It was Ahiru’s turn to blush and look shy. “I – I don’t know if I’ve ever said so, but… but it means a lot to me how you always dedicate them to me. Thank you.”

Fakir reached out and took her hand under the table. “You know why I do that, right?”

Ahiru smiled at him so radiantly he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Of course.”


	4. Balance - 2013

Ahiru opened her eyes at the slight creak of the door as Fakir walked in carefully balancing a tray full of food. She couldn’t help but wonder how he’d managed to safely bring something like that upstairs without spilling or breaking anything, but then, it was Fakir – he had always been much more graceful and coordinated than she was. She’d heard that most dancers were actually more on the clumsy side when not dancing, like she was, and had even seen it in action, but Fakir seemed to be an exception to that rule.

“Were you asleep?” Fakir asked as he carefully set the tray down on the bed.

“No.” Ahiru shook her head. “Just resting my eyes a little.”

“It’s understandable if you’re tired.” He moved to sit beside her on their bed. “It’s been a long day.”

“It wasn’t all bad, though,” Ahiru said as she sat up straight, wincing only a little as she moved her legs. “Until I fell, I was having a lot of fun!”

“I know. Be more careful next time, though,” Fakir gently chided her.

“I – I know!” Ahiru’s cheeks flushed a little with embarrassment. “It – it’s not my fault the ice is so slippery! I just lost my balance, a-and anyway the doctor said my ankle isn’t broken, and it’ll be fine soon, so it’s no big deal.”

“No, it’s not serious this time, but it could’ve been worse,” he reminded her. “I don’t want you getting badly injured, so try to watch out next time.”

Ahiru’s mortified expression softened into a small smile. “I know. I will. And you be careful too, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you either.”

“I will.” He leaned over to kiss her temple, producing a happy little giggle from her. “Let’s eat now, before it gets cold.”

Ahiru frowned slightly as she looked at the tray for the first time and saw that he’d brought food for the both of them, not just her. “U-um, but – Fakir – wouldn’t it be easier for you to eat at the table downstairs? N-not that I mind you being up here with me, I don’t mind, I mean I like it, I mean – but – I – I just don’t want you to inconvenience yourself on my account, and –”

“It’s fine,” Fakir interrupted her. “I’d rather be here. Unless you want to be alone?”

“N-no!” Ahiru shook her head. “I just don’t want it to be hard on you, you know?”

“It’s not. So don’t worry about it. All right?”

“O-okay…”

Fakir had brought up a simple meal for them of soup and bread, with hot tea to drink, and for dessert some of the Christmas cookies they’d baked together earlier that day. They’d spent the morning doing that, and then after cleaning up and having lunch had headed out to do some shopping and sightseeing, which had happily occupied the better part of the afternoon until Ahiru’s accident. No matter how many years passed, the magic of the season with its abundant snow, bright lights, and festive decorations never seemed lost on her. She took an almost childlike delight in it every year, and Fakir couldn’t help but take joy in watching her enjoy herself. The holiday itself had no religious significance to him – he’d never been much of a believer – but it had gained no small amount of emotional importance now that he had Ahiru to share it with. Having been a duck, rather than growing up as a human child with family traditions and years of memories to associate with it, she had little real grasp on the theological reasons behind it all, but simply enjoyed all the fun trappings – the baked goods, the decorations, the joy of giving and receiving gifts with the people you loved, and so many other things – for themselves. It was natural, he thought, that her delight in it should be childlike, given that she had not had a human childhood and thus many human things were still fresh for her. Whatever the reason, though, it made her happy, and that was enough for both of them.

“These came out pretty good!” Ahiru said as she swallowed a mouthful of cookie. “Thanks so much for helping me, I still kinda mess up sometimes and you’re so much better than me and I really wanted these to be good. They came out great cause of you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Fakir said as he reached for one. “You were just as much a participant in the process as I was. They’re a success because we worked together on them.”

“You think so?” Ahiru blushed a little. “Y-yeah, I guess we do make a pretty good team… but then, we always have.”

“Mmmm. Yeah.”

“It’s kinda funny, though,” Ahiru said thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I ever told you, but one time back then Edel suggested I work together with someone to help Mytho, but things with us were still so… well, I didn’t even consider working with you cause I thought I had to work against you… but she showed me this gem she had, she called it Courage, she was always showing me gems that had weird names but anyway… it was a necklace with two hearts joined and I didn’t think about it back then but now I wonder about it cause that kinda happened with us, didn’t it?”

Fakir always wondered how it was that she could speak in such lengthy sentences without pausing for breath, but then again he had to admit – to himself, at least – that it was cute. “I suppose it did.” He smiled at her.

“And what’s really funny is,” Ahiru continued, “That was the day you found me in your locker and you took me outside and gave me bread. And it was cause you were nice to me that time that I went up to you that other time as a duck when you had the pendant, and part of how I knew it’d be okay if I let you know that I was really a duck.” She paused to finish her cookie, and washed it down with some tea before starting to talk again. “I wonder if she was trying to get us to work together cause she knew more about us than we did about each other and thought it would work… like if she wanted us to go against what Drosselmeyer wanted or something.”

“Maybe.” Fakir shrugged. “I didn’t know her; I only met her a couple times before…” He trailed off, his mind wandering to that night and the fire that had kept his injured body warm after he’d been fished out of the lake. He shook himself out of the reminiscence and continued. “It could have been a coincidence. It’s hard to say.”

“Yeah, I guess. I did always have a hard time telling what she was thinking.” Ahiru took another cookie and ate some of it. “I just wonder about that kind of stuff sometimes. Our lives have been so weird that I can’t help it. I mean, technically we’re kind of impossible, you know?” She glanced down at herself, at the human body Fakir had returned to her after the story’s end. “When you think about it, I’m not really supposed to be like this and some people would say it’s weird for us to be together like this.”

“Do you think it’s weird?” Fakir frowned at her. He’d never heard her talk like this before. “Do you… ever miss being a duck?”

“Oh, no! Oh please, don’t think that!” Ahiru looked up at him with wide eyes and shook her head. “I mean, okay, it could be considered weird, but I don’t really know what’s supposed to be normal either, and if I have a choice I’d rather be weird and happy, you know? I don’t wanna go back to being a duck cause I’m so happy with you. And as long as you’re okay with knowing I used to be a duck and it doesn’t bother you, then it doesn’t bother me.” Her fingers tightened a bit on the cookie, sending crumbs onto the tray. “It – it doesn’t bother you, does it? I mean, I know you’ve never thought less of me for being just a duck and you never treated me any different after you found out, but – but did it ever make you think things like… ‘oh, this is weird, I’m in love with a duck, that’s kinda weird, ew’?”

“No.” Fakir shook his head. “It was weird to realize I was feeling those things at all, for anyone, but the fact that you were a duck never entered into it. Not like that.”

“Oh. Um. H-how did it enter into it, then?” Ahiru swallowed, feeling somehow nervous of the answer.

“When you became one permanently, of course.” He reached over and brushed some loose hair away from her face. “You know that.”

“Oh! Oh yeah.” Ahiru relaxed at that. “Although, um… what would you have done if I’d wanted to keep being a duck?”

“I wouldn’t have transformed you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Fakir said as he polished off another cookie. “And I still would’ve kept my promise, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“No, I know that, I know you wouldn’t have done that to me or left me, I just, I mean…” Ahiru gulped. “Would – would you ever have… have moved on?” She twisted the blanket in her hands. “A-and found somebody else to l-love?”

“… I don’t know if I could have,” Fakir said honestly as he watched her. He’d read at least one story where a couple had ended up in the same situation, only they hadn’t had the option of returning humanity to the other person, like they had. The human halves of the pairs had tended to never be able to move on and marry someone else, and he found it all too plausible that he would’ve ended up the same way had Ahiru rejected the opportunity to become human again. He knew he’d love her all his life, and he doubted that her form would ever have changed that. “I don’t think that would’ve happened.”

“That wouldn’t really have been fair to you, though.” Ahiru looked sadly up at him. “You deserve to be happy.”

“And I am now. Isn’t that what matters?” He smiled at her again. “Don’t worry so much about what might have been. We are what we are, and we have each other, and we’re happy. That’s what’s important.”

“Y-yeah, I guess you’re right.” Ahiru smiled at him.

They finished their dessert, and then Fakir took the tray back downstairs. He piled the dishes in the sink, figuring he’d wash them tomorrow. Usually he got them done right away, but he had a feeling that after the day they’d had, Ahiru might fall asleep before he got back upstairs, and he wanted some more time with her tonight before she did. Anyone else might have just shrugged and decided that they’d just talk the next day if that happened, but after all they’d been through just to survive the story and then to be together, it had never occurred to Fakir to take her for granted in even the smallest ways.

He caught her yawning as he reentered their bedroom, confirming his suspicions. “That was fast,” she said.

Fakir shrugged. “I can wash it all tomorrow. It’s not that important.” He crossed the room to the wardrobe, and began to change into his sleep clothes. Watching him undress, Ahiru felt a jolt of regret over her sore ankle and the exhaustion slowly creeping up on her.

Nevertheless, when he climbed into bed beside her, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. He leaned into it, slipping his arm around her shoulders to gently pull her closer, his other hand moving to her waist. She sighed at his touch, and slid one of her hands up to thread her fingers into his hair as they kept kissing.

“Sorry we can’t do anything else cause of my foot,” she mumbled when they finally broke apart.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to apologize for that.” Fakir stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. “It’s fine.”

They continued to kiss for a little while before settling down with her head against his shoulder and their hands clasped together, and enjoyed a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Ahiru spoke up. “Um, do you think my ankle will be better by next week?”

“The doctor said it would as long as you’re careful and don’t do too much, so as long as you listen to her advice, you should be fine.” Fakir rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’ll help you with whatever you need, don’t worry.”

“Okay, good! Cause I don’t want to miss going to see The Nutcracker with you, I’m so excited about it cause we’ve never gone before, I know we’ve performed in it at the academy and you were so good and I still can’t believe I got to be Clara and we got to dance together, but we’ve never gotten to see someone else do it so it’s really exciting, especially cause it’s the Eleki Troupe, and I know you can’t return the tickets so that’s important too…” Ahiru paused, and bit her lip. “I – I just… I just wish…”

Fakir frowned. “You just wish what?”

“That… that we could take Uzura with us.” Ahiru’s voice shook. “I – I think she’d really like it, you know? And I wish she could’ve seen us dance it together, she would’ve liked that too. She never did get to see us dance, not even once…”

“… I know.” Fakir squeezed her hand. “I miss her too.” It hadn’t occurred to him back then that she might leave when the story ended, and then she’d just vanished, with none of them getting a chance to say goodbye. He’d looked for her for a while, thinking that maybe she’d just wandered off again, but he’d eventually had to accept that she wasn’t coming back. It had been harder on him than he’d perhaps expected, between the shock of her disappearance and the sudden void left by her absence. As annoying as she could be at times, he had nevertheless been very fond of her, to the point where he’d subconsciously begun to think of her as the younger sister he’d never had as a child (a thing he’d only consciously realized once she was gone).

“Every year, I…” Ahiru’s voice cracked as the tears began to fall onto her cheeks. “Every year, on Christmas morning, I check that stocking we always hang for her to see if she’s taken the little presents I put in it for her, but they’re always still there. Even so, I – I haven’t given up hope that one year she’ll have come to visit us, or that she’ll just pop back in someday.” She lifted her head to look up at Fakir. “Do you – do you think we’ll ever see her again?”

“I… I don’t know if it’s possible,” he admitted. He didn’t want to lie to her. “But I’d like to hope we will,” he added. And he meant it. Years ago, he would never have said such a thing, but Ahiru had taught him a lot about the value of hope, of not giving up on people. It had been a slow process, but she’d gradually lessened some of his pessimism and influenced him to hope more, to think better of himself and others. “If I could turn you back into a human, if some types of magic still do exist in this world despite that the story ended, then maybe she’ll find a way back to us someday, even if only for a little while. I’m sure she misses us too, and wants to see us again.”

“Y-yeah, you’re right.” Ahiru sniffled a little, but also smiled through her tears as she leaned her head against Fakir’s shoulder again. It somehow made her feel better to know that Fakir missed Uzura too, that she wasn’t alone in her feelings, that he wanted to hope for her return and thought it might actually be possible. He’d always been so good at comforting her and making her feel stronger even when things seemed hopeless; it was one of the many things she loved about him.

They fell silent again after that, content to simply sit beside each other and hold hands while the snow continued to fall outside their window. Fakir was just beginning to wonder if Ahiru was starting to drift away when a sound from outside the house caught their attention. A group of carolers was passing by, and Ahiru lifted her head to better listen to them.

“They sound like they’re having fun,” she commented as she snuggled back down against him. “I kinda wish I could do that, but I can’t with my ankle like this and I can’t sing anyway. People would probably throw fruit or something at me when they heard me.”

Fakir shook his head. “I don’t think anyone actually does that in real life. And besides, it’s really not that fun. You wind up with a sore throat no matter what you do, and when it gets dark it’s too cold to really enjoy it, and then of course it gets boring too. I’d rather be in here with you, where it’s warm.”

“You say that like you’ve done it before.” She yawned again. “Did somebody take you when you were little?”

“… Yeah. My parents dragged me along a few times, and it was always fun at the beginning, but I got tired of it by the end. Raetsel made me go with her once too, and had me bring Mytho. That went about as well as you could expect.” He scowled a little at the memory. “So it really wasn’t my favorite holiday tradition.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” She squeezed his hand. “I – I really like how you sing the different songs, though, you have such a nice voice. Do you – do you think you could sing one for me now?” she asked shyly. “Just so I can make-believe? I – I mean, I wouldn’t ask you to go and do something you hate like that, but… but well… I don’t know, I just like listening to you, is all. S-so if you don’t mind…”

Fakir kissed the top of her head. “Not at all.”

He began to sing to her then, softly, and by the time he was finished with the song, her eyes were closed and her breathing was deep and even. He looked down at her for a moment, smiling, before carefully letting go of her hand and gently moving her so that she was lying in a more comfortable position. She didn’t wake up – Ahiru had always been an extraordinarily sound sleeper – but she shifted slightly and made the small chirpy noise he’d gotten used to from her days as a duck. It was one of a few things about her that seemed to have been held over from that form and reminded him of the tiny duckling she’d once been. He found every single one cute and endearing.

Having finished moving her and pulling the blankets over her sleeping form, he brushed some of her hair away from her face and tenderly kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Ahiru,” he murmured, and he thought he saw her mouth curve in a small smile before he turned the light out and settled himself down beside her, taking her hand once more as he closed his eyes.


	5. Cloth - 2013

Christmas Eve brought with it a heavy snowfall; as the day drew to a close it was cold and dark outside, but in Fakir and Ahiru’s house all was warm and bright. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the tiny lights they’d strung on their little tree were twinkling merrily, illuminating the ornaments they’d hung there. Many were store-bought things that Ahiru had taken a fancy to when they’d been out shopping, but a lot were homemade. Charon had given them the ones Fakir had made as a child, and even though Fakir had been mortified by them (he had never had any talent for art), she had nevertheless convinced him to keep them and hang them on their tree. And seeing his, she’d insisted on making some to hang beside them, because she’d never gotten a chance to as a child. For all her hopes and ambitions, they hadn’t come out much better than his, but still got a place on the tree anyway. In the end, they each liked each other’s efforts more than they liked their own, and refused to let the other throw away anything they’d done, so everything wound up being hung and draped with tinsel. It meant that their tree didn’t look anything like the pretty ones in magazine ads and store displays, but it did look uniquely theirs.

Ahiru was sitting in front of the fireplace admiring their tree when Fakir came in from washing the dinner dishes. His eyes fell on the presents in front of her that he recognized as being the ones they had gotten for each other. “You didn’t peek, did you?” he asked, a note of mock sternness in his voice.

“Of course not!” Ahiru stuck her tongue out at him and then giggled. “I want it to be a surprise!”

“I know.” Fakir sat down beside her and kissed her cheek before letting his arm settle around her shoulders. “Go on and open yours.”

“Really?” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “It’s really okay if I open mine first?”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I know how excited you are, so just go ahead.”

She frowned a little. “Does that mean you’re not excited about yours?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.” He squeezed her shoulder. “It just means that I also want to see what you think of what I got for you. Don’t you feel that way too?”

“Well… yeah,” Ahiru admitted. “Okay, I understand that. I’ll open mine first then, since that’s how it is!”

“Good.”

Ahiru reached for the present that was labeled as being for her from Fakir. Her stomach did an uncomfortable somersault as she looked at both of them again. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help but compare them and find hers wanting. He’d wrapped hers nice and neat, with a perfect little bow, and her name was written on the tag in his beautiful handwriting. She, meanwhile, had never quite gotten the hang of wrapping presents, so the paper was bulging in some places and wrinkled in others, his name was written in her usual messy scrawl, and when she’d attempted to curl the ends of the bow with a pair of scissors like Raetsel had shown her, the ribbon had ended up limp and barely wavy, and she’d cut her fingers besides. Fakir had bandaged them up for her (she hadn’t liked the antiseptic he’d put on first, but she _had_ liked how he’d gently kissed her bandaged fingers “to make them feel better”) and wiped her tears away while she explained what she’d been trying to do, and he’d assured her that her present looked fine, that it was what was on the inside that mattered since they were just going to throw away the wrapping paper and ribbons anyway, but it didn’t stop her from feeling inadequate when their efforts were side by side like this. Especially when she wasn’t so sure about the quality of what was inside, either.

She carefully undid the paper, not wanting to rip or tear Fakir’s handiwork despite that she knew that it would only end up in the trash bin later, and slid the bow off to set aside on the rug. Fakir picked it up and set it on her head like a tiara, and she giggled. Underneath the wrapping paper was a yellow cardboard box, and she lifted the lid off and pulled back the tissue paper inside to reveal the present Fakir had gotten her. She gasped as she saw it. “Oh! Oh, Fakir, it’s…”

“Do you like it?” He sounded more nervous than she thought he should be, but she didn’t have the heart to call him silly for it, and besides, she was distracted by the gift before her.

“It’s beautiful…” Ahiru lifted it carefully out of the box, a look of reverence on her face. It was a white hair snood, crocheted in some pretty, intricate pattern, with tiny blue pearls dotting it.

“You’re always admiring stuff like this, so I thought I’d get you one of your own.” Fakir reached up and stroked her hair. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Thank you… it’s so pretty…” She clutched it to her chest and leaned her chin on her hands. “Kinda too pretty for me, really, but –”

“What?” Fakir shook his head. “That’s not true. Why would you think something like that?”

“Well… you know…” Ahiru swallowed past the little lump in her throat. “I’m – I’m not really…”

“Yes, you are.” Fakir kissed the top of her head. “And it’ll look perfect on you. So stop worrying.”

“O-okay.” Ahiru carefully laid it back down in the box and set it down. “I – I’ll try.” She picked up her gift for Fakir, and put it on his lap, her stomach twisting into a knot again. “A-anyway… here’s your present…” Her hands shook a little, and she hid them in her lap, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

The tag was the first thing that caught Fakir’s eye: whereas he had written a simple “To Ahiru, from Fakir” on the one he’d stuck on her present, Ahiru had written “To Fakir, with lots of love from Ahiru”. He’d never been good at filling out cards and tags like this, but she’d come to be more comfortable with it, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt that he was still letting himself be held back by little things like that sometimes. He took the tag off carefully and set it aside before tearing the paper off the little white box she’d used to put his gift in. He recognized it as being from a pack of boxes they’d purchased the year before, rather than one from a specific store, as his gift to her had been in.

Lifting the lid and pulling back the slightly wrinkled tissue paper – Ahiru had clearly had trouble folding it right – revealed a sweater in a rich, deep shade of green. He pulled it out and held it up, noting how soft it was before seeing that one sleeve was a little longer than the other, and the shorter sleeve had something of an odd shape to it. The neckline looked strange too, and he could see a couple of dropped stitches here and there.

“It’s awful!” Ahiru burst out, before he could even say anything. Seeing it in his hands now, it somehow looked even worse than it had when she’d folded it and laid it in the box. “I’m so sorry! I know it’s ugly…” She could feel tears coming on and she bowed her head both to hide them and because she couldn’t bear to look at what she’d wrought. “I’m sorry… this was a bad idea, just throw it away, and I – I’ll get you something else, it’ll be late but at least you’ll have something nice instead of this…”

“Huh? Why would I throw away something you put so much work into, and waste all your effort?” Fakir frowned. “That’s a stupid idea.”

“S-so was making this. And I’m s-stupid for doing it…” Try as she might, Ahiru couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. “I’m so stupid…”

“What? Ahiru, no.” Fakir set the sweater down and put his arm around her again. “You’re not. And wanting to make something for someone isn’t stupid either.”

“It is if you’re t-terrible at it!” She let out a little sob against one of her hands. “I – I mean, I’ve only really tried knitting little things before and they weren’t that good, and I should’ve _known_ it was too early for me to try making something big like this, and she  _told_ me I should work up to it more slowly but I didn’t listen because I really am an idiot, I know you don’t mean it like that when you say it so I don’t mind but I actually really am one cause I just plowed ahead as usual without thinking properly about it and it came out so hideous and you got me something so pretty and now you get this in return and I’m just… I’m the worst…”

“Stop it.” Fakir took her other hand and gently squeezed it. “You’re not an idiot, and you’re not the worst.”

“Yes, I am, I –”

“No. You’re not.” He hated hearing her talk about herself like this, but he also knew that it wasn’t helpful to say so. He rubbed his fingers over her palm and thought for a moment. “Why don’t you tell me about why you wanted to do this, what inspired you to?”

Ahiru hiccupped. “How come?”

“Because I want to know. Don’t you always ask me similar questions about why I wrote a story this way or that?”

“I – I guess.” She swallowed. “W-well, I wanted to make it for you cause… cause I wanted to do something special and different for you. I didn’t want to just get you more ink or another notebook or a book or something like that because that’s too easy and not really creative and I wanted to get you something unique that you couldn’t get anywhere else. And I was trying really hard to think of something like that and I was having so much trouble and it was so frustrating but then I went shopping that one day with Raetsel, to the crafts store, cause she needed to get some stuff for things she was making and that’s how I thought of it.” She hiccupped again and he had to try not to smile fondly at it, because her hiccups always sounded like quacks. “She told me she’d show me how and give me an easy pattern, but that it still might be too advanced and I should wait to try something so big till I’d practiced on more little things, but I insisted cause I thought… I don’t know… I guess I thought I needed to make you something big and I thought I could do it and I really wanted to surprise you and make you happy, but I messed it up.” Her shoulders shook as a fresh wave of tears threatened. “I’m so sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Fakir shook his head and gave her hand another squeeze. “It’s your first try, and no one turns out perfection on their first try. Do you think the first story I ever wrote was good? It wasn’t. But that doesn’t make first tries worthless – the opposite, really. You have to start somewhere, and if you don’t start at all, you can never be good at whatever it is you’re giving up on.”

“I – I know that, but…” Ahiru sniffled. “I just… I really wanted to make you something nice that you could wear, you know?”

“I don’t see why I can’t wear it.” Fakir let go of her and held up the sweater again. “It looks like the right size.”

“But it also looks horrible!” Ahiru shook her head. “You can’t wear something like that!”

“Really? Let’s see.” Fakir pulled the sweater on over his head, ignoring the gasp of horror from Ahiru. Just as he’d thought, it fit him, even if it hung a little oddly in places and the neckline was uneven. It was soft and comfortable, though, and knowing that she’d made it somehow made it seem even warmer. “See? I told you it was the right size.”

“Yeah, but…” Her freckled little nose crinkled, and her mouth formed a tiny pout. “It still looks weird. Not cause of you, cause of how I made it,” she added hastily.

“I don’t care. No, I really don’t,” he said, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to protest. He shook his head. “It fits and it’s comfortable and it’ll keep me warm. That’s all that matters. But, if you really feel so strongly about it, I’ll only wear it around the house. Is that an acceptable compromise?”

“No – I mean, yes – I mean – you can wear it wherever you want,” Ahiru mumbled. She wasn’t any prouder of her handiwork than she had been a minute ago, but she couldn’t help but be embarrassed now that he’d said that. Ever since she’d met him, Fakir had always cared more about if a shirt was comfortable and covered his birthmark than how it looked, to the point of hanging onto more than one long after it should have been thrown out, simply because it still met both criteria. In light of that it seemed a little silly to have worried that he’d be reluctant to wear a sweater she made him, even if it was poorly made.

Fakir studied her face, not sure what to make of her expression. “You’re all right now, then?” he asked quietly, cupping her chin in his hand. He hated seeing her cry, especially if he was responsible in some way for it, even indirectly like this. “You’re not upset anymore?”

Ahiru shook her head. “I – I still wish it looked better, but – but if you really do like it, then that’s all that matters.”

“I do.” He slipped his arms around her and held her close, leaning his head against hers. “I told you, it’s very comfortable.”

“Th-that’s good, cause I tried to pick a really soft yarn,” Ahiru said. “I didn’t want it to be all scratchy and rough, you know? A-and I chose the color cause it reminded me of your eyes, and you have such beautiful eyes that I thought it would look good on you and bring them out.”

“Mmmm.” He could feel his face growing warm – compliments from Ahiru always made him blush a little. It didn’t seem to matter how many years they’d been together at this point, she still had that effect on him. “You made a good choice.”

“I – I’m glad.” Ahiru smiled and snuggled closer to him. “I’m sorry I got so upset before, I just… really wanted to give you something special.”

“It’s all right. And it _is_ special.” Fakir kissed the top of her head again. “Thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome!”

As they sat there quietly, Fakir’s mind drifted, back to when they’d been together a short amount of time. One morning, Ahiru had acted strange, rushing back up to get something she’d supposedly forgotten, only to “find” it when she came back down, and do a poor job of pretending like she hadn’t known it was there all along. He’d tried to get her to explain what was going on, but she’d attempted to change the subject, and he’d let her because he figured that if she didn’t want to talk about it, that was her business.

Later, when they’d come home from the Academy, she’d stayed in the kitchen to have a snack while he went upstairs to change and start in on his homework. Something on his desk had caught his eye while he was doing that, and closer inspection revealed that it was an envelope with his name written on it in Ahiru’s handwriting. Intrigued, he’d sat down to open it and found that inside was a love letter. It hadn’t been at all flowery, like the fake one that friend of hers had written during the story, nor was it what anyone would call eloquent; it was a little bit clumsy and awkward in places, just like she was. But the strength and sincerity of her feelings had shone through nevertheless, and so it was beautiful to him. When he was done reading it, he’d finished changing his clothes before stepping out of his room to find her just coming up the stairs. They’d stared at each other for a moment, and then he’d pulled her close and simply held her tightly, not speaking until she asked him if he’d found the letter and he murmured a confirmation. She’d then explained that she’d been wanting to write a real one to him for a while now, partly to make up for the disappointment she now knew he must have felt when he learned that that first one had been a fake, but mostly to try and express her feelings for him in the written word. She’d written him others since (and he’d written her back, each one of them painfully awkward in his eyes but treasured by her nonetheless), and he kept them all in a particular drawer in his writing desk.

This sweater was like those letters, like her Christmas ornaments, like every other thing Ahiru had ever crafted, like Ahiru herself: full of love and warmth and honest effort that clearly showed through despite any awkwardness or clumsiness. She wasn’t as good at getting her thoughts out as she had been as Princess Tutu, and she tended to stumble over her words and stammer and babble and ramble, but he always understood exactly what she was struggling to say. Her creative efforts were imperfect, but no amount of flaws in the execution could hide the love and care that had gone into making them. Rejecting something she’d put that wonderful, sweet heart of hers into making for him out of a wish for his happiness was unthinkable.

“What are you thinking about?” Ahiru murmured suddenly, jolting him a little.

“You,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to worry about things like this anymore… I don’t need you to be perfect, or get everything right. I just need you to be you.”

“I do mess a lot of stuff up, though.” Ahiru stared down at his arms where they were wrapped around her. “I’m still not so good at cooking, and I drop things and spill things and I’m always tripping or walking into walls, I mean, I did most of the sweater while my foot was hurt… I’m really bad at a lot of stuff…”

“Then just practice until you get better at things.” Fakir shrugged. “I don’t mind any of it as long as you’re happy. Be your real self and do things your way, whatever that means; I’ll still be here no matter what.”

Tears brimmed anew in Ahiru’s eyes, and so her voice was a little hoarse when she finally trusted herself to speak. “I know… thank you…”

Once upon a time, back when she’d only just become a human for the first time, and had to use a pendant made of a piece of a storybook prince’s heart to do so, Ahiru had firmly believed in her own heart that no one would ever love her like this. After all, she was just a duck, and even when she was human she was weird, and clumsy, and awkward in so many ways. She didn’t, in her opinion, have the beauty or talent that girls like Rue or Freya possessed. Despite transforming into Princess Tutu, she lacked in her other forms the grace and poise of her image of what a real princess should be. She was nothing but a fraud, a mere duck playing dress-up. And though she didn’t expect to gain the love of the prince she worked so hard to save or seek it as a reward for her efforts, and was happy in the end that he had chosen Rue, she was nevertheless plagued by loneliness and the persistent belief that she was unlovable as she really was.

But then one day Fakir had admitted that he was in love with her. Fakir, the person who had once been her enemy, but had grown into being first her best friend and then her dearest love without her being fully aware, initially, of the changes taking place in her heart. That he should love her as deeply as she loved him meant the world to her. Even now it still felt a bit unreal sometimes, almost too good to be true. Part of her wondered if she deserved to be this happy. She’d said as much to him once, and he’d immediately assured her that she did. He had also confided that he too had once thought that what they had now was something that just wasn’t in his future, and not just because he used to believe that he didn’t even have a future. He too still wondered if he deserved it, and he didn’t have to explain to her why he would think that way. So she’d held him tightly and told him that there was no doubt in her mind that he deserved it just as much as he thought she did. He hadn’t had much to say to that, but she could tell it meant a lot to him to hear.

They remained by the fire until it was little more than smoldering embers, periods of silence interspersed with quiet chatter or physical affection or both. By the time they went upstairs to bed, Ahiru found that she was a bit more at peace with the sweater she’d made for him, and that she actually liked how it looked on him, flaws and all. In the days and weeks to come she would experience some initial worries that he was only wearing it to spare her feelings, but he wore it often enough that it soon became clear that he really did like it. That made her happy, and so in time she came to love it, simply because he did.


	6. Violet - 2015

Long, long ago, in a world perhaps not so very different from our own, there existed a city. And in that city lived a merchant. Well, in all truth there were many merchants living there. Such things happen in thriving cities, you know. And oh, did this city thrive! Our tale, however, centers on one merchant in particular. At the time when this story begins he was middle-aged and widowed, and had three daughters, all of whom were –

– what’s that? You say you have heard this story before? Yes, well, all right. I acknowledge that you very likely have heard some other version. But I think I know which one you’re familiar with, and what I’d like to tell you goes a bit differently and is well worth hearing. In my opinion, anyway. So, won’t you sit quietly and listen?

Thank you. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the merchant’s daughters. The eldest of the three was named Rue, and she was as intelligent and strong-willed as she was beautiful. Having been left with the care of her sisters after their mother’s death, and bearing the brunt of their father’s mistreatment – for he was not a kind man, as I shall detail soon enough – on those occasions when he was home, she was not as open or outwardly warm as the other two. She was fiercely protective of them, however, and beneath her cool exterior possessed an immense amount of love. Her sisters looked up to and adored her.

The middle child was called Freya. Lovely and kind-hearted, she cared little for parties despite being as accomplished a dancer as Rue, preferring instead to tend to the family gardens. Taking care of the flowers seemed to be her truest passion, though she also looked out for her sisters as best she could. Their father criticized her for not being more social and for getting her hands dirty when a lady of good breeding should not (at least according to his view), but Rue did what she could to protect her and see that Freya did not lose her joy at all things green and growing.

Ahiru was the name of the youngest and sweetest of the three. She had not her sisters’ dancing talent, nor did she particularly excel in music or art, but instead simply loved to read and spend time outdoors with birds and beasts. Though lovely in her own way, most people saw her as not comparing to her sisters in looks, due to the standards of the day. Her father therefore reserved especially harsh criticism for her, not all of which Rue was able to shield her from. Despite that, however, Ahiru remained a beacon of love and joy who endeared herself to all who met her.

All, that is, save for her father. For as I have said before, he was not a kind man. Quite the opposite. Some words that I would use to describe him would be bitter, critical, grasping, and selfish. And cruel. So very very cruel. I also did mention that the city he lived in thrived, did I not? Well, that much is true. However, the same cannot really be said for the merchant. Yes, he did make a good sum of money from his business, I will acknowledge that. Making money and managing it well are two entirely separate things, though, and he was extremely poor at the latter. He frittered it away on expensive frivolities, some of it on his daughters, but mostly on himself – remember that I said he was selfish – and also tended to gamble and drink it away. The result was that he was always coming up short somewhere, and winding up with debts that mounted higher and higher. Of the three girls, only Rue seemed to have any idea how bad things truly were, as she was the one left in charge of the household whenever their father was away.

It all came to a head in early autumn of one year. Those to whom the merchant owed a great deal of money were growing impatient, and a string of bad business decisions had made his finances even shakier than usual. He was desperate. And so when a chance to make some money fairly quickly by making a trip to the coast arose, he jumped at it. “I will be gone for some months,” he told them. “Mind the house while I am away. Rue, you are in charge; do not disappoint me, else you will lose my love and trust.” It was a threat he commonly made before departing the house. And as his line of work necessitated many trips out of town, it was one that Rue was long since accustomed to hearing. “Be good girls.”

They all bade him farewell, not daring or bothering to ask for souvenirs, and so he was off. He traveled as quickly as he could to the coastal town, visions of riches dancing in his head. He must first pay off his debts, of course. He knew that. But the merchant fancied that the venture he was pursuing would give him enough wealth to have some fun with after that, and he began already to plan how else to spend it. Thoughts of happy evenings at the tavern filled his mind, longings for gambling and drink, with little consideration spared for his daughters’ needs. I am sure you saw that coming.

Unfortunately for the merchant, his expectations for the business deal’s windfall far exceeded its reality. Between one thing and another it ended up being more of a failure than a success, and he pocketed barely enough to cover his return trip and only a portion of his debts. His imaginings of tavern revelry died ignoble deaths, leaving him more bitter and miserable than ever. He rode back towards home in a truly foul mood, determined in some way to blame his daughters for this mess. Blaming himself was out of the question, naturally.

Here is where things take a turn. Or rather, where the merchant took a wrong turn. So distracted was he by his own black-hearted grumblings, as well as by a landscape enshrouded in fresh snow – for winter had come on by now – that he soon found himself quite lost. He had traversed this forest many times on his way back from business trips, and he knew he ought to be close to home, but all of a sudden everything looked terribly unfamiliar. Even worse, the sun was setting and the shadows growing, and it promised to be an exceptionally cold night. More frustrated than ever, he cursed at the snow and he cursed at the forest and he cursed at his poor horse. He had a dreadful tendency, as I’m sure you’ve picked up on by now, of taking his anger out on those around him. Particularly those who had done nothing to cause it. He lashed the horse cruelly with the riding crop, and directed him down the path he believed would lead him out of the woods.

It did not.

The path instead led him further astray than before, though if you take a particular view on fate you may think the opposite. Either way, he found himself in a place he had never seen before. Behind the great iron gate that suddenly loomed up before him – startling his horse into nearly unseating him – stood a vast and beautiful manor. This alone left him speechless, but even more wondrous was what he noticed next: no frost touched the world beyond the gates, despite that it was winter outside them. Inside, all appeared to be early spring. Fruit hung heavy from the trees, the grass grew thick and green, and flowers of every color bloomed in profusion. The merchant dismounted and pushed open the gate, and when he entered he felt the soft warmth of the sun upon his face. It did not take him long to decide that he must spend the night here. Plus, there was sure to be someone who would be able to direct him out of the woods and to his home.  

That decided it. Firmly resolved now in his course, he marched up to the front door, already imagining himself being treated as the honored guest by a bevy of eager to please servants. He knocked first, in some pretense at politeness, and when no answer came he tried the knob. Finding it unlocked he shoved the door open and marched in. As he was feeling quite entitled to being fawned over it was more than a little perturbing to discover that there was no one about to greet him and offer hospitality. He called out in his loudest voice. No answer came, save for the resounding echo of his own words. Once they had faded away only a deep, deep silence remained. It seemed to penetrate down to his very bones. And so this man, this hard-hearted and meanest of men, began to feel slightly unnerved. Yes, even he was capable of it! It does not seem possible, I know. But this silence – it was completely unlike anything else he had ever experienced. It is difficult even for me to describe. You are doubtless thinking of a mere quiet, which does not really do it justice. It was an utter absence of noise, yes. And yet there seemed to be more to it than that. Otherworldly, it felt. Unnatural. A lesser man might have cowered in the face of it, might even have turned around and left, but not the merchant. His discomfort was growing, but even still it was no match for his determination to get something out of this. He moved on.

Into every room on the ground floor he went, searching for occupants. And in every chamber he found only more silence. He ascended the stairs. By the time he had gone halfway through the next floor, finding silent empty rooms everywhere he went, he was truly at war with himself. He was more uncomfortable than ever thanks to the eerie house, but pushing that feeling aside and beginning to overwhelm it was excitement. Why excitement? Well, this was a manor, after all. And manor houses do often contain many fine and expensive things. This one was no exception. Room after room he saw, filled to the brim with things that would fetch a pretty penny in the city, and wicked thoughts began to arise in him. If he could find no one at all occupying this vast mansion, then why shouldn’t he help himself to a bit of what the owners had left behind? His misery over his failed business deal faded, and plans began to take shape in his mind anew. He catalogued what he saw, and thought of how much he could load onto his horse. And if he paid attention, and drew a map, then surely he could find his way back here and help himself twice, thrice, several times over. A fierce and greedy joy filled him.

It was soon to fade, however. For as he stood in a bedroom on the third floor, making mental notes about everything within it, he heard a great and terrible voice from behind him. “Good evening, traveler.” It did not seem entirely human, and the merchant’s blood ran cold in his veins. He feared to turn around, feeling that he did not want to behold the speaker. “If it’s shelter you seek, you may indeed have it. This bedroom will be yours to stay in this evening, and meals shall be provided. But woe unto you if you seek to rob me. A night’s sanctuary is yours to have, but nothing else in this house may be taken.”

“I – I understand.” The merchant struggled to keep his teeth from chattering with the chill that had descended on him. “I thank you, kind host. And –”

Whatever else he meant to say was never voiced. For his host had already left the room, and all that the merchant saw of him as he turned round despite himself was his shadow. He stood frozen for a minute or two, just staring at the doorway. Then his legs began to shake, forcing him to collapse into a nearby armchair. Several more minutes passed while he tried to get his trembling body under control. This behavior was not at all usual for him, and had anyone been around he likely would have vented his feelings upon them out of mortification for having been seen in such a state. Luckily he was quite alone and did not seem capable of speech anyway. Consumed with all manner of conflicting thoughts, he did not notice himself drifting off to sleep. Terror was in the end no match for exhaustion.

He woke some time later, after the sun had vanished into the horizon and the stars took up their positions in the heavens. Candles had been lit during his slumber; he blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to their flickering light. Second to be noticed was the meal laid out on the nearby table. Its inviting smell beckoned him over, and the merchant hurried to sit in the chair that had been pulled out for him. The food was still piping hot, and tasted far better than anything he’d had on his grueling journey. Far better than anything he had had in months, really. He devoured the meal, and belatedly noticed as he ate that someone had built a fire in the fireplace as well. Somehow he had heard nothing. This struck him as strange, but he did not feel inclined to question it. Instead, he polished off every last morsel of his rich meal and then fell into bed, hoping that he would not dream of beastly voices and terrifying shadows.

Dreamless was his sleep. And so it was that he woke with mild annoyance foremost in his mind. This mysterious owner had more than enough riches here for one person. Enough to spare, really. So why should he not share with someone low on their fortunes? It seemed terribly stingy of him. Yes, I know – how hypocritical of the merchant. But self-awareness was but one of the many virtues he lacked. We shall move on.

Breakfast had been laid out for him on the table and he ate it eagerly, though he begrudged that he dare not take even one fine silver fork or knife with him. Surely it wouldn’t be missed? But the memory of that horrible voice returned to him, and he shuddered. It would be noticed somehow. He was not sure how he knew it, but he did. So once he had got done eating he packed up his belongings in a hurry and made haste to the stable where he had left his horse, dread warring with disappointment at his thwarted dreams of riches all the way there. Perhaps if he entreated his host and made his plight clear he might be granted a few trinkets at least to pay off his debts? He toyed with the idea. Ultimately, the desire to never again meet whoever owned that voice won out.

As he led his horse toward the gate, a sudden thought seized him. He had been replaying the words of his host over and over in his head. “Nothing else in this house may be taken”. Those had been his exact words. Perhaps, then, there was a loophole? These flowers were not technically inside the house. By that logic, they should be free for the taking. And really, what value could they have to his host? All they did was sit there and look pretty in the morning sun. Taken to the city, however, it was a different story. Flowers were scarce and hard to come by in the middle of winter, and those imported from warmer climes fetched a large price to those willing to pay it. If he gathered a good bundle, he could sell them for no small amount when he got home. Moreover, if he uprooted a plant, it could be relocated into Freya’s garden and made to produce a steady flow of costly blossoms. The flames of greed sparked anew in his heart. He cast his glance about, and settled on a plant he had never seen before. Among its heart-shaped green leaves bloomed a most unusual violet, one with white petals liberally speckled with blue. Oh, what he could charge for _those!_

But just as his fingers began to dig into the soft soil a terrible roar resounded behind him. Almost without meaning to, the merchant turned his head and saw the monstrous visage of the beast who owned the house. He fell onto his backside in the dirt and tried to scramble away, but the horrible voice spoke again and pinned him to the spot with terror. “Ungrateful wretch! Didn’t I tell you that nothing in this house was yours to take? Yet you foolishly disregard my words and try to steal from me!”

Now the merchant, like you, had heard a tale very much like this before, and so he believed he knew best how to save himself from the beast’s wrath. Thus it was that he spoke in something of a babble before a punishment for his transgression could be named. “Please! Oh please, I beg you, do not kill me! I will give you one of my daughters in exchange if only you will spare my life! I am so sorry!”

There was a pause. Something the merchant could not discern the meaning of flickered in the beast’s eyes. “You would trade one of your children for the sake of your own life?”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” His voice rose in desperation. “Wouldn’t you rather have as your prisoner a fair young maiden, instead of a middle-aged man like myself?”

The beast was silent for a moment as he considered the offer. “… Very well. But she must come of her own free will. If none of your daughters will agree, then you must return here alone to face the consequences of what you have done.”

“Oh! Thank you!” The merchant let out the breath he had been holding. “I – I will depart now, then, and relate to my daughters their poor father’s tale… one of them will surely wish to honor and protect her beloved sire. I promise you this.”

“No. Not now.” A low rumbling noise came from the beast. “You will depart tomorrow, on one of my own horses. He will carry you straight back home, and you will have two weeks to return on his back, either with one of your daughters or alone. Don’t bother thinking of sending him back rider-less,” the beast added. “I will pursue you to your house and mete out my punishment there if you try to go back on your word.”

“I understand.” The merchant’s heart sank, because this had indeed been foremost in his thoughts. For while he was willing to sacrifice a daughter to this thing, it nevertheless stuck in his craw for other reasons. He had had hopes, after all, of marrying his daughters off to wealthy husbands, and the thought of giving up one potential avenue to fortune chafed at him. Still, it was preferable to dying at the claws of a monster. And in his own home, no less! “What shall I do with the rest of today?”

“Return to your room.” The beast glowered at him. “And stay there. Meals will be provided for you, and when you have eaten your breakfast tomorrow you will find the horse I have spoken of in the courtyard. Don’t forget your promise.”

The merchant assured him he would not. Yet the beast turned up again after the evening meal to once more remind him of his oath and that his daughter must be willing to come, and renewed his threats against him should he break his word. Sleep was not easy for the merchant that night. He tossed and turned and dreamed uncomfortable dreams. And when the sun rose he found his appetite strangely diminished before he had even had a bite of the sumptuous breakfast laid out for him. He managed to consume nearly all of it, though, and hastened to the courtyard. As the beast had said a horse awaited him there, wearing a saddle and loaded up with the merchant’s own belongings. He mounted it swiftly, and rode home without sparing a glance back at the manor. For he’d already seen quite enough of it, and knew he would soon be returning one way or another.

When he got home his daughters greeted him dutifully at the door and asked with some trepidation how his business trip had gone. Rue had seen his arrival, after all, and did not know what to make of it. For while there did not seem to be terribly much strapped to the horse he rode on, it was clearly a different animal than the one he’d left with. Moreover, this new horse looked as if it surely must have cost a small fortune. If he’d bought it as part of a large sum made on this deal she had definite opinions on the wisdom of such a decision. She knew better than to voice them, however.

As they had feared, no good story did fall forth from their father’s lips. They could not have predicted the one they heard, though. The merchant ranted first about the business trip itself, assigning responsibility for its failure on all parties other than himself. His horse was next to receive abuse. It took the lion’s share of the blame for the merchant’s having become lost, with the rest of it reserved for the weather and the time of day. It was then the beast’s turn to be castigated. Well away from the terrifying presence and horrible voice, the merchant felt free to voice his considerable displeasure about the beast’s miserliness and stinginess. The three girls exchanged glances when their father wasn’t looking, but said nothing.

Their silent thoughts about their father’s hypocrisy turned to distress, however, when he came to the part about one of them having to stay in the manor in his place else he be imprisoned there. The merchant snapped at them to be quiet. “I have already chosen which of you will remain in that accursed house in my stead. Ahiru, as you are the least of my children and not as likely to make a fine marriage as your sisters, it shall be you the beast takes prisoner.”

Rue objected loudly to this, her fear of her father’s wrath temporarily subdued by her protective instinct towards her sister, but Ahiru interrupted her. “Rue, it’s fine. I – I’ll l do what Father says and accompany him back to the beast’s house, and stay there in his place.”

“Ahiru, no!” Rue shook her head. “Think about what this means! You will be cut off from us, from everyone you know… not to mention that the beast might harm you! Why should you choose to pay the price for Father’s misdeeds?”

At these words the merchant’s memory stirred, and he recalled the beast’s words. “Yes, yes,” he said, trying to affect sincerity. “This is quite the request your father makes of you. Do you truly love and honor him enough to choose to do this? To suffer willingly in his place?” It galled him to even pretend to question her decision, but he knew that he must. If she did not go of her own free will her presence at the manor would not be accepted, and he would have to suffer punishment after all.

Ahiru nodded. “Yes, I do.” It was not quite true. Years of cruelty from him, directed not just at her but at her sisters as well, had left her with little warm feeling in her heart for him. That he could drive a girl so full of love and compassion to such a place speaks to how truly terrible he was. Even so, Ahiru felt guilt for not loving him more, guilt he often provoked in her with his insidious words, and it was this guilt combined with a desire to escape that motivated her to agree. She only wished that she could take her sisters with her, and flee somewhere safe. But as that was not an option she would settle for this. “I will go.”

Rue and Freya set to arguing more with her about it until their father, fearful that they would change her mind, separated them and confined them to their rooms. Ahiru he ordered to pack what she needed, for they would leave in two days. He knew full well that he had more time than that, but selfishly wanted to have this whole affair settled and done with so that he could get back to work without it hanging over his head. Already he was thinking of how much money Ahiru’s possessions would bring, not to mention how much he would save now that he no longer had to feed and clothe her.

When the fateful day arrived Ahiru rose with the dawn and attached what few belongings she had decided to bring with her to the horse’s saddle. Rue and Freya again tried to make her stay, but she refused and rode off with their father to the beast’s manor.

It took the better part of the day to get there. As night fell Ahiru began to be afraid of every towering shadow that rose to meet them, every small noise in the undergrowth. Gradually, though, softly twinkling lights started to appear in the forest, and as they rode on she swore she could feel some warmth from them despite the chill of the winter evening. It served somehow to comfort her. Even in the face of the unknown fate that awaited her, she grew calmer as they approached the manor gates.

The horse stopped in the courtyard without being told, and when they couldn’t make it proceed any further Ahiru and her father dismounted and walked inside the manor. Candles had been lit in such a way as to direct them upstairs to a lavish dining room on the second floor. A delicious-smelling meal had been laid out for them on the table, and a fire burned merrily in the fireplace. As both were tired and hungry after their long ride they had no qualms about sitting down and enjoying it. Especially since they not yet seen hide nor hair of the beast.

They had scarcely finished eating, however, when they heard footsteps coming up the hall. Ahiru froze in her seat, and her fear only increased when she saw how afraid her father was too. Never before had she encountered anything capable of frightening him, so her thought was that their host must be truly terrifying indeed. Nevertheless, when the doors swung open and the beast entered Ahiru stood on quaking legs and curtsied. A half-beat later, her father rose too and bowed.

“Good evening.” It seemed to Ahiru that the beast’s voice was as just as unpleasant as her father had said. “Welcome to my home.” His eyes were hidden in shadow, preventing her from seeing their color, but even still she could tell that he was looking straight at her. She tried to swallow down both her fear and her thumping heart, which seemed to have migrated temporarily to her throat. “I hope dinner has been adequate?”

“Y-yes! It – it was delicious!” Ahiru nodded. “Thank you! And…” She tried not to wring her hands. “My name is Ahiru.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Ahiru.” His eyes seemed to glint suddenly in the dark, and his gaze darted over to her father before returning to her. “Are you here willingly, Ahiru? Have you chosen to stay when your father returns to his own home?”

“Yes, I am.” Ahiru’s chin rose a little. “I promise I’ll stay here in his stead, to be punished for his misdeeds.”

Something unreadable flickered in the beast’s eyes. “… I see. Very well. Then, since it’s your choice, you may remain here.” He turned to her father. “As for you, you’ll leave tomorrow on the same horse of mine that bore you here. When he’s taken you to your own front door he’ll leave you without being dismissed, and you must not expect to ever again see this place.”

“I understand.” The merchant nodded.

“Good.” The beast nodded. “Then come with me, both of you, and I’ll show you to your rooms.”

They followed him upstairs, and he led them to an exquisite suite that he said would belong to Ahiru from now on. He then took them to the same room where the merchant had stayed on his previous visit. It would be his room this time too. But before they went to bed, Ahiru was to take her father into an adjoining room and help him pack things into a pair of traveling trunks. The beast explained that as she was here to stay she should send things back to her sisters, to remember her by. After that he bid them goodnight.

Ahiru’s trepidation had returned by this time. She had no time to reflect on it, though, before her father took hold of her arm. “Come on, make use of yourself.” He tugged her along towards the door the beast had spoken of. “Help your father pack, as the beast has ordered.”

“Yes, Father.” Ahiru tried not to sigh. Being free of such treatment was a small comfort to her despite all that she had to fear from the beast.

Inside the next room they found no shortage of treasures. Sumptuous gowns fit for royalty filled the wardrobes, and great cabinets held countless amounts of jewelry and other accessories. A shelf was lined with matching shoes. Ahiru exclaimed over them, and wanted to send it all back home to Rue and Freya. Her father, however, was far more interested in the massive chest all but spilling over with gold coins, as well as the cupboards brimming with precious gems. Over Ahiru’s protests he loaded up the trunks mostly with the gold and some jewels, sparing only a little room for one dress and pair of shoes each for her sisters.

“Do not look so glumly at me like that!” he snapped as Ahiru stared mournfully at all the lovely accessories still sitting where she’d found them, not to mention all the gowns left hanging in the wardrobes. “With all this I can buy them plenty of things, better probably than these silly trinkets. It’s far more important to prioritize the money. Now go to your own room. We’ll say goodbye in the morning.”

“Yes, Father.” Ahiru went unhappily back to the room the beast had assigned to her, and took little notice of its lovely decor. It seemed a hard thing to send so little back to her sisters. True, her father did need the money. She knew that thanks to some of the things Rue had let slip. But she also knew that his words of buying things for them with the money were but empty promises and that anything left over after settling his debts would only fund his own pursuits, as he only seemed interested in spending money on himself. All she could hope for was that her sisters would not be too miserable in her absence.

She awoke after a largely sleepless night to find breakfast laid out on the table in her room for her. Dread over what would happen to her and worry for her sisters kept her from eating too much of it. Her dour mood made for a sharp contrast with her father’s when she saw him in the courtyard. He seemed to be in as fine spirits as she had ever seen him, his appearance that of someone who had slept well and enjoyed their morning meal. Doubtless much of it was owed to the trunks filled with treasure that had been loaded onto his own horse, the one he had brought him here that first time. The one belonging to the beast had been saddled up for him to ride. Both seemed impatient to leave, and so too did the merchant. He bid Ahiru a hasty goodbye and rode away.

Ahiru watched them disappear into the forest. Then, despondent, she wandered back up to her room. She tried to entertain herself with a favorite book that she’d brought from home, but couldn’t concentrate on it. By and by she found herself starting to fall asleep. Yes, you’re right, it’s no surprise, given that she hadn’t really slept during the night. So she curled up on her pillows and dozed off.

And as she slumbered, she had a rather unusual dream. Typically, she dreamed of places and people she had already seen and knew. I expect you do too. So do I. This dream was different, however. In it she seemed to be walking through a beautiful garden, lush with flowers and trees and shrubs, and bordered by a crystal-clear brook. Birds sang just out of sight, a haunting melody. Transfixed by the loveliness of her surroundings, she kept walking, wanting to see more. Eventually, she found herself approaching a man she did not know. He was tall and well-built, with smooth brown skin and shiny black hair worn long and tied back from his handsome face, and he stared at her with eyes as green as the leaves of the trees around them. Ahiru paused for a moment and stared back at him. Then, propelled by some feeling she couldn’t name, she rushed forward. He turned away from her, though, and seemed to disappear into the trunk of a great old oak tree. Sadness enveloped her, and Ahiru sank down to the ground amongst the tree’s roots.

If she had other dreams she did not remember them; in any case she was awoken by the chiming of her bedside clock some hours later. To her surprise, the midday meal had been laid out on her table. Ahiru discovered that she had much more of an appetite than she had at breakfast, and swiftly set about eating. Once she’d finished her food she took to exploring her room. A beautifully-made vanity had been laid out with everything she might need, and a bathtub had been provided for her to keep herself clean with. Wardrobes filled with towels and robes and gorgeous gowns were there too, as well as a large mirror. Ahiru sighed as she beheld herself in it. Much as it hurt to admit it, she felt that her father had been quite right in labeling her the least of his children. She simply didn’t have the kind of looks so valued by most people, not the way Rue and Freya did, nor their talents. Instead, she was the runt of the family, with little to recommend her in any way.

– what’s that? You think the beast disagrees? Hmmm… well, all right, I will acknowledge that he sees her appearance differently than she does. He has yet to get to know her beyond that, though, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. And yes, yes, all right, I disagree with her assessment too. But I am telling you how Ahiru feels about herself, which is unfortunately not as flattering as how I would describe her. In any case, however, let us move on.

Where was I? Oh right – Ahiru’s attempts to entertain herself. After she was done looking around her room she moved on to tentatively exploring the rest of the mansion. Her strange dream had mostly faded from her mind, and her concern now was finding some way to occupy her time. She wandered through the empty halls, making note of the eerie silence her father had described. It did indeed feel unnatural. As she went on, though, it seemed to draw back a bit, settling into more of a simple quiet that was easier on the nerves. Maybe she was imagining it. But she did relax a little, and was able to focus on looking around the many rooms. They were richly decorated, with elegant furniture and objects and antiques that no doubt were expensive. The house was beautiful, there was no denying that, and she could see herself in other circumstances being excited at getting to live in such a place. As it was, though, she felt isolated and uneasy and dearly missed her sisters.

Among the interesting rooms she found was a portrait gallery, undoubtedly of past owners. They stared down at her, some forbiddingly, some kindly. Ahiru gave them all a good look and then moved on. A few doors down she found a ballroom. Evidently it hadn’t been used in some time; sunlight through the window showed a thin layer of dust on everything, and loneliness seemed to permeate the air. She amused herself for a few minutes by pretending to dance around with an invisible partner. At one point she thought she sensed someone gazing at her, but when she looked to the doorway she saw only ordinary shadows on the floor. It did bring her back to herself, though, and she sighed once more. Rue and Freya were both accomplished dancers, and never had any lack of partners whenever they attended a ball. Ahiru, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Her ability was quite firmly in the mediocre range, and if she was having a bad day it could swing down into poor. It was easy to see why her father had despaired of it, another reason why he thought her lesser than her sisters and unlikely to find a good marriage.

Having sunk into a small depression by these thoughts, Ahiru trudged out of the ballroom and continued her wanderings. Her melancholy was soon forgotten by the next interesting room she found: a massive library. Countless books filled shelves many times taller than she was, shelves that lined the walls of the vast and spacious room. A fireplace stood on the far end, along with a table and armchairs; Ahiru stared in growing delight at it all. She walked around for a few minutes, just taking everything in, and then set about finding a book she wanted to read. Once she’d done that she settled down into one of the armchairs and proceeded to lose herself in her chosen narrative.

In that way she whiled away the rest of the afternoon, barely noticing as the sun set and candles set around the room in bejeweled candlesticks flickered to life. Only when the clock on the mantel began to chime did she realize what hour it was. She also realized that she was extremely hungry. So Ahiru marked her place in the book, left it on the little table, and hurried away.

She did not know where dinner would be served, but guessed that it might be in the dining room where she and her father had had eaten on the previous night. Her guess proved to be right, and she sat down at the place that had been set for her. It was a well-prepared meal, but lonely, and she wished she could have some sort of company, someone to talk to. Even the beast would have been preferable to this silence.

Or so she thought until she heard his footsteps outside the room. Her heart quaked at the noise. Once again he’d waited to approach her until after she was done eating, and she wondered at it even as he opened the door and entered. This time he sat down across from her, allowing her to get a fuller glimpse of him in the light. She could see now that his eyes seemed to be a deep forest green; that they were an ordinary color and not scarlet or a fierce yellow made her feel more at ease with him somehow. “Good evening, Ahiru.”

“G-good evening.” Ahiru smoothed her napkin where it lay on her lap, as a way of giving her hands something to do other than wringing them. “H-how are you?”

He grunted instead of answering. “How has your first day been? Have you found ways to entertain yourself?”

“Oh, yes!” Ahiru nodded. “I – I’ve looked around a lot, if that’s all right, and I found a lot of interesting rooms.”

“I see.” He regarded her with those green eyes, and she realized with some alarm that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “I’m glad you found ways to occupy yourself. Was dinner sufficient?”

“Y-yes, it was.” Ahiru fidgeted. “Is – is that why you want me here?”

“Hmmm?” He seemed to frown, though it was difficult to tell. “What do you mean by that?”

“I – I mean… well…” Ahiru swallowed. “Wh-why would you want me here at all, if – if you’re not going to eat me or tear me apart? I’m supposed to be getting punished for my father trying to steal from you, right?”

“I have no such intentions towards you.” The beast shook his head. “And indeed, I was not the one who initially requested your presence. Your father offered you up freely when he saw my rage at the attempted theft, and I surmised from that that he is not, perhaps, the best of fathers.” He paused. “Was I right?”

“… Yes.” Ahiru’s shoulders slumped. “He… actually, he decided that of the three of us, I should be the one to go, because he said I was the least of his children and less likely to make a good marriage… I did decide on my own to come here, though.”

“… I see.” His eyes narrowed. For a moment he seemed quite as enraged as he had been by the theft, and Ahiru trembled in fear. But then he calmed, and continued in a gentler tone. “That’s why I took him up on his offer – I’d guessed that he might be someone his children would be eager to escape from. I thought to offer at least one of them a sanctuary from an unkind parent.” He shifted in his seat. “You’re free to go, of course, if you wish to return to him. I won’t hold it against you. If you want to stay, however, know that you will be comfortable here. You will want for nothing, and may come and go as you please.”

“Oh.” Ahiru blinked. She had not expected that answer. “Then… then… um… I’ll stay, because I’ve already chosen to. But…” She swallowed again. “Would… would it be possible for me to write to my sisters? I miss them terribly, and I worry about them…”

“Of course.” The beast nodded. “All that you need will be provided for you.” He rose from his seat. “Very well, then. This is now your home, and I hope you will be happy here.”

“I – I’m sure I will.” Ahiru tried to affect a brighter voice. And really, she didn’t have to try very hard – the knowledge that she was safe and could correspond with her sisters was a great comfort to her. Her heart and mind felt considerably more at ease than it had in days. “It’s a beautiful place, I don’t see how anyone could hate it.”

“You are very kind.”

He turned and made to leave her, but Ahiru called out to him. “Oh! Please, wait a minute!”

The beast turned round to face her. “Yes? Is there something additional you require?”

“Just… just one thing.” Ahiru fidgeted again. “Wh-what’s your name?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, of course!” Ahiru nodded. “I have to have something to call you when we’re talking to each other!”

“… You can call me ‘Beast’.” He shrugged.

“What? No!” Ahiru frowned. “That’s not nice!”

“It’s what I am.” He turned away from her again.

“No, it’s only what you look like.” Ahiru shook her head. “It’s not what you are on the inside. I can see that the real you is kind, not beastly at all!”

The beast made a strange sound then, one that almost sounded like laughter. But a sad sort of laugh, rather than a mirthful one. “You don’t know me. If you did, you wouldn’t say such a thing.”

“I think I would.” Ahiru folded her arms. “If you weren’t a truly kind person, you wouldn’t be doing this for me.”

“Hmph.” He walked away, towards the door. “We will have to agree to disagree. Goodnight, Ahiru.”

Ahiru started to argue, but before she could he had already disappeared into the shadows. She glared after him, and then got up too so she could return to her room. Candles had already been lit there, and a fire built in the fireplace. To her surprise and delight she also found water in the bathtub, steaming gently in the flickering light. She enjoyed a nice long bathe, and then changed into a lovely nightgown from one of the wardrobes. By that time she was quite tired enough to douse the candles and settle down into a contented sleep.

She dreamed again of the handsome man, but as before he turned away from her, leaving her staring dejectedly at a mere tree. When Ahiru woke she shook the images from her mind and enjoyed the breakfast that had been laid out for her. Afterwards she prepared herself for the day, and set out to explore more of the manor.

This time she ventured outside, feeling braver and more comfortable now that she had spoken with the beast and found him not nearly so terrifying as before. She discovered to her delight that an even vaster garden than she had expected existed behind the manor, full of the same flowers as in the front and more besides. It was hard not to think wistfully of Freya; oh, if only she could show her the wonders of this garden. Ahiru thought also about what powerful magic there must be here, to keep everything in a state of early spring when outside the manor’s gates all was cloaked in the white of winter. It puzzled her. So many things about this place were confusing, really.

Perhaps it should not have been so surprising, then, when another mystery materialized to trouble her with questions. Deep within the gardens, she found the very place she had seen in her dreams about the handsome man, and it shook her to her core. Was he real? She could swear that she had never seen him outside the dream, and before this discovery would also have sworn that he and the place she met him in were mere figments of her subconscious mind. Yet here it was. Right down to the towering oak tree at the water’s edge. Ahiru walked up to it, and traced her fingers over the bark. It looked very much like an ordinary tree. And really, it was. But its presence in her dream, along with all that surrounded it, unnerved her very much. She searched high and low, wondering if she might meet the man from the dream, but at last concluded that she was alone out here. The only people in all of this place, she conceded, were herself and the beast.

Well, maybe not? Ahiru pondered that as she walked back. Someone had to be preparing her meals and lighting the candles, someone had to have drawn her bath last night. Right? Surely it couldn’t all be done by magic? She thought hard and tried to remember if she’d ever noticed anyone going about their jobs, and found she couldn’t. She had not seen or heard anyone in this grand manor save for the beast. And there was certainly no way he was doing everything himself. Maybe it really was magic; maybe there really was some sort of spell on this place.

So lost in thought was she that she took a detour without meaning to. And so Ahiru wound up at a place unexpected but no less delightful: a crystal-clear pond dotted with some water lilies, upon which several ducks swam about. She cried out in happiness at the sight, and all the ducks turned towards her. Far from being startled, they all made a beeline for her and swarmed her as she sat down. Other birds gathered near too. For whatever reason she couldn’t explain, birds had always flocked to her and loved her, and Ahiru dearly loved them in return. She loved them so much that she couldn’t help but wish aloud that this pond could be beneath her room, that she might watch the frolicking ducks from there, and lo! By some chance she happened to look up, and saw her very own window.

Ahiru spent a very enjoyable morning with the birds, until the hour came for the midday meal. She ate it in her room, and then whiled away the afternoon reading her library book in the gardens until sunset. When it was too dark to read any further she hastened inside, and found all the candles already lit. Dinner was served at the usual time in the dining room, and afterwards the beast came to see her again. He inquired about her day, and listened to her happy babbling about all she had found (though she omitted her strange dreams), and then made to leave. Ahiru asked him again for his name, and he responded simply with a curt “goodnight” before exiting the room.

As the days went on Ahiru found many things to entertain herself with, and was never bored. She read books in the library, explored the manor, danced alone in the ballroom, wrote letters to her sisters, and spent time outside in the gardens with the birds or simply walking amongst the flowers. But content as she was, loneliness soon set in. Ahiru missed Rue and Freya. She missed having the company of others in general. So since she could not see her sisters, she began to seek out the beast and try to spend time with him.

It was not easy at first. He was very good at making himself scarce, and resisted her attempts to socialize with him. Not only that, but she quickly discovered the truth of what he must have been referring to that first night alone with him after her father left. The beast was indeed a prickly sort of person, and for a while the two had many disagreements. Over time, however, the amount of disagreements dwindled as they came to understand each other better. Misunderstandings were smoothed out, and communication between them improved, and so they came to be friends. A strong affection for him grew in Ahiru’s heart. Prickly and grouchy though he was, and no pretty sight to look upon, it was nevertheless clear that he truly did have the kind heart she’d initially guessed him to have. It also seemed to her that he softened as time went by. Perhaps she imagined it; perhaps not. In any case it steadily became less difficult to convince to him spend time with her, and after a while he even consented to take the evening meal with her. He would not eat in front of her, but he kept her company while she did, and engaged her in conversation. This he did every night, and without fail she always asked him the same question when she had finished:

“Beast, what is your name?”

His answer was the same each time: he merely told her goodnight and left. Yet it seemed to her now that she knew him better that he seemed sad, and not so curt as she’d once thought. She also no longer felt his voice to be so horrible. It occurred to Ahiru that she had misjudged him in more than one way when she first came here, biased through her father’s account of his experience. Her father, though, had had reason to fear the beast. He had sought to do him wrong. And her father was a hard-hearted man with little warmth within him. So it made sense. Tender-hearted as she was, Ahiru could not help but feel guilt over letting herself be influenced so, and tried all the harder to be a good and caring friend to the beast.

Time continued to pass, turning days to weeks, and weeks to months. Before Ahiru knew it she had spent nearly six months in the beast’s manor. She marveled at it. Hardly a day seemed to have passed at all, yet she had so many happy memories by now that it did seem quite believable. Her affection for the beast had grown by leaps and bounds, and sometimes she wondered just how deep it truly ran. Was it love? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she could see herself staying here forever, and that she wanted to never be parted from her dear beast.

Unbeknownst to her, her feelings were returned in full. The more time he spent with her, the more the beast longed for her. Her presence made his heart ache with it. He wanted to go on seeing her sweet face and hearing her voice for the rest of his life. And sometimes the way she smiled at him gave him hope. But then he would remember – no. No. He had no right to hope. Even someone like her could never love someone like him. It was impossible.

Which presented quite a problem for him. You see, he was under a wicked spell to make his form thus, and he’d been given only a limited amount of time to break it. He only had, in fact, until sunset on his next birthday, and that milestone was fast approaching. If he did not find someone to love him by the end of that day, he would be cursed to remain a beast forever. Ahiru was, therefore, his only chance at regaining his humanity.

Yet he could not bring himself to try and court her, to ask her for her hand in marriage. To do so would put a price on the sanctuary he had offered her, and make her haven uncomfortable and unsafe. How could he betray her trust like that? She had come here to escape from her cruel father, and that had indeed been his motivation in accepting the merchant’s offer. Making it seem as though he had had an ulterior motive for his act of kindness towards her all along was unthinkable. She deserved better than that. No, he would accept this form as his unchangeable fate, and not repay her friendship with such an ugly thing as seeming to have wanted something from her all along. A dream of her love would have to be enough to content himself with.

Their quiet life together thus seemed destined to be undisturbed, at least for a while. That is, until a letter arrived heralding great changes. Rue was to be married to a prince, you see, and she begged Ahiru to attend her wedding, which was to take place very soon. Ahiru read the letter over and over. She thought about what to say. Then she approached the beast, and asked him if she might leave the manor and go see her sister getting married, which she very much wanted to do.

“Of course. You are no prisoner here, after all,” he reminded her. “This is your home, not your jail, and as I have told you before you are free to come and go as you please. Take the horse which I have previously sent to you, and he will take you straightaway to wherever it is you wish to be. If you decide you would rather remain with your sister, then simply send him back. He knows the way.”

“No, no!” Ahiru shook her head. “I’ll come right back! I promise!”

The beast regarded her with an expression she could not read. “You aren’t bound to me by any obligation. You don’t have to be back by any certain time, or at all.”

“I know that.” Ahiru wrung her hands. “But… I… I’ll miss you, and I know you’ll probably be lonely without me here, so I don’t want to stay away too long and make you sad, either.”

“No.” The beast shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on having a good time with your family. It’s been so long since you’ve seen your sisters; think nothing of me while you’re away.”

“I can’t.” Now Ahiru shook her head. “I – I mean, I’ll have fun with them, yes, but I’ll still think of you, and I’ll come home as soon as I can. I _promise_.”

The beast seemed to sigh. “Very well.”

How long she would be away was not for certain, but it did seem likely that she would not be present for his upcoming birthday. He neglected to mention that, however, feeling that it would cast a pall upon her visit home and sow guilt in her heart. That was something he did not want for her. Instead he set about helping her plan her trip, and the night before she left he gifted her with a beautiful gown that was the color of her eyes, and shoes to match as well. He gave to her also a necklace to wear, a simple chain adorned with a large, deep-red jewel. Lastly he thought she should have something to wear in her hair, and so he presented her with a garland of the speckled blue and white violets that had been so instrumental in her coming here.

“Oh! These are my favorites!” Ahiru exclaimed as she saw the flowers. “Thank you! But… will they still be okay to wear by the time I get there?”

“Yes.” The beast nodded. “They have been enchanted to stay fresh for as long as you need them.” He started to smile but then thought better of it, realizing that it might make his face too terrifying even for Ahiru, who had lost all fear of him by now. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Ahiru traced her finger reverently over one of the soft petals. “I… thank you.” She hesitated, and then flung herself at the beast and hugged him. He made a small noise of surprise, but did not return her embrace. It was not surprising, since in all their months together he had never once touched her, but it was disappointing. She let the hug linger for a couple minutes and then pulled away. “Thank you… and I really do promise to be back soon.”

“I know.” He stepped back. “Goodnight, Ahiru.”

She bid him goodnight and then carefully packed away her new finery, feeling quite torn in two. On the one hand, it would be good to see Freya and Rue again, and share in Rue’s happiness. But on the other, she had come to love living here with the beast, and would dearly miss him during her trip. There was no question in her mind that she wanted to come swiftly back when the festivities were over, and she also felt surer than ever that her feelings for him must indeed be love.

The beast was there to see her off when she set out in the morning, and she couldn’t help but steal several glances backward at him before she rode out of the manor gates. Did he look sad? Maybe it was her own guilt fogging her vision, but she thought he must. Ahiru’s heart ached for him. She could only hope he did not become too lonely while she was away.

As the beast had promised the horse took her straightaway to the address of the prince’s palace. Rue had helpfully provided it in her letter of invitation, part of her hopes that Ahiru would be able to visit. Ahiru was warmly welcomed on arrival, and shown to a guest room. It seemed quite as fine as her own room back in the manor, and she likely would’ve compared them if she hadn’t been stopped short by that thought. When had she started thinking of that room as _hers?_ She couldn’t recall. But it seemed clear to her that she no longer considered herself a guest, and had taken the beast’s words to heart: the mansion was her home now. Well and truly.

The very next day was the wedding. Ahiru wore the fine gown the beast had given her, along with the shoes, necklace, and garland of flowers. And though she still did not think much of her own appearance she did enjoy the sight of the pretty flowers in her hair, and acknowledged that maybe she wasn’t as pitiful looking as she had thought. Yes, her opinion was still too harsh. I know. But not all problems can be solved quickly or easily, and poor self-image is one of them. We shall move on. When Ahiru saw Rue, she naturally thought her to be the most radiant in the room, outshining all others. Perhaps some of this was sisterly bias, but some was not, for Rue’s happiness was so great that she did seem like a beacon of light, illuminated from within. There was not much chance for them to converse before the ceremony, but at the grand reception Ahiru was able to sit with Rue and Freya and Rue’s new husband, and they talked merrily about this and that. The story of the courtship was related to her, as was Freya’s new business selling flowers. Both things had been written of in letters, to some degree, but detail had had to be saved until now. Ahiru listened eagerly to all of it. Then came time for them to question her about her life.

“But it must be dreadful being trapped there with a beast!” Rue exclaimed. “I know you write of being happy and all the entertainment you find, but how am I to trust that he doesn’t read your correspondence? How did you convince him to let you leave for this?”

“I didn’t,” Ahiru protested. “He said that I’m free to come and go as I please, and I’m not his prisoner. And I’m really not! He took me in because he thought I might want to get away from Father.” She glanced hastily around, and when she’d determined that their father was elsewhere continued speaking. “Father wasn’t really honest. _He_ was the one that suggested me living there, not the beast. He was only interested in saving his own life.”

“Well, _that_ comes as no surprise.” Rue sniffed disdainfully. “Still, though… how can it be anything less than terrible to be all alone with only a horrid beast for company?”

“He’s not horrid!” Ahiru’s lower lip trembled. “Don’t listen to what Father says! The beast is kind and gentle, he’s not at all on the inside what he looks like on the outside. I love spending time with him. Father’s just angry because he couldn’t steal anything.” Her expression became a pout. “He’s biased against him.”

“That’s understandable.” Freya reached out and tentatively touched one of the flowers in Ahiru’s hair. “Is this the flower that Father tried to steal for me?”

“Yes.” Ahiru nodded. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Oh yes, of course it is. It is only…” Freya sighed. “He meant to give those flowers to me… perhaps it is I who should be paying the price right now, and not you. Whatever Father says, I think it is I who is least likely of us three to wed a rich man… or to wed a man at all, really. For I have no desire for it.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that, but…” Ahiru shook her head. “That’s not the _point_. I’m not paying any price, I _told_ you that. And Father was still only thinking of himself when he tried to steal these. He wanted to sell them, and have you grow more and sell them, and take the money himself.” She looked down sadly at her lap. “I… I wanted to send home more things in those trunks for you two, but he insisted on taking mostly gold and jewels for himself, and that he could buy you two more things with it.”

“Hmph.” Rue tossed her hair. “He’s done nothing of the sort. As I’m sure you’ve guessed.”

“I did.” Ahiru sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Ahiru, dear, it isn’t your fault.” Freya took her hands. “You must stop blaming yourself for everything.”

“I quite agree.” Rue sighed too. “Honestly, after hearing everything you have said, and after all we three have been through, I’m not so sure it isn’t Father who is the true beast.” She reached over and laid her hand atop Freya’s. “Both of you must come and live with us in this palace. I have decided it now. It is the best place for us all.”

“Oh, I would love that!” Freya’s eyes grew wide. “Would I be able to continue my business, however?”

Rue nodded. “I would make sure of it.”

Freya brightened at that. “Then it is agreed!” She turned to Ahiru. “And? What say you to this idea of Rue’s?”

“I… I can’t.” Ahiru shook her head. “I mean, thank you, Rue, it’s very kind of you… but I really do love living with the beast and I’ve promised to be right back after the wedding is over. He didn’t make me, so don’t think that, it’s simply…” She frowned. “I miss him, and I can’t stand the thought of him being all alone.”

“You’re as softhearted as ever, Ahiru.” Rue sighed. “I suppose I can’t argue with what you truly want, though I do wish you would reconsider. At least visit more often! Letters are a poor substitute for your presence.”

“I will!” Ahiru nodded. “I promise. I’m so sorry for not coming back for so long… the time just flew.”

Rue and Freya said that they supposed they understood that, and conversation then turned to other things. Their happy time had not long to last, however, before their father made an appearance. He had been watching from afar, you see, not hearing what they spoke of, but waiting until Ahiru was left alone without her most ardent defenders. His chance came when the prince took Rue off to dance as the musicians finished setting up, and Freya found a young lady to dance with as well. It is possible someone might have requested a whirl around the floor with Ahiru, but if so they never got to. For the merchant marched up to angrily confront her the first opportunity he had.

It was obvious from the moment he spoke that he had been drinking, and Ahiru soon found herself more frightened of him than she ever had been of the beast. He had nothing but cruel and sneering things to say about her dress, and the comfortable life she must be living, and it seemed also that the sight of those violets in her hair had set him off. As you might have guessed, he had long since squandered all the money he’d gained from the beast. And now he wanted more. Ahiru, scared as she was, refused. She told him that he had no right to demand more than he had gotten, and that it was not hers to give anyway. That prompted the merchant to make some truly horrible disparaging remarks about her, which I shall not repeat here. Ahiru was too hurt and stunned by them to respond; luckily, this happened just as Rue and her new husband came up to see what was going on. Rue, emboldened by her new position, ordered her father to leave the palace immediately and never come back, and the prince did the same. The merchant started to snarl something at them both, but thought better of it. Sparing one glance at Ahiru, he made a hasty retreat.

Shortly after that an anxiety began to grow in Ahiru. She did not know why, but she felt that something was dreadfully wrong, and she felt a strong urge to return home. So she bid her saddened sisters goodbye, and made her way to the stables for the horse she had ridden there on. It was a great and terrible shock to her when she found the beast’s horse absent from his stall. A stable hand told her the news she feared most to hear: her father had taken the horse and raced away on it. It was clear what he meant to do. Ahiru’s distress and terror rose to new heights, and she ran back to the party in tears to tell Rue and Freya what had happened. They were as horrified as she was. The prince, being kind of heart and sympathetic to his new wife’s sister,  took her straightaway back to the stables and saddled up his finest and fastest horse for her, that she might ride it back to the beast’s manor in all haste. Ahiru thanked him profusely and rode away swiftly.

Yet it seemed that this horse did not travel as quickly as the beast’s horse. It took her all night to reach the manor, beyond the dawning of the sun, and all the way there Ahiru fretted and feared for her dear beast’s safety. In her desire to run to his side she nearly fell as she dismounted the horse, and stumbled over her feet as she hurried into the house. She would likely have searched all three floors for him, calling for him as she went, had she not seen the door to the gardens left hanging open as she ran through the rooms on the first floor. The beast never did that. So Ahiru ran outside.

She found him after some searching, beneath the oak tree she had seen in her dreams. He lay on the ground, wounded by cuts from a sword and bleeding heavily. Ahiru gasped in horror and raced to his side. “Beast! Beast, please… please be alive…”

His eyelids fluttered open, and he looked up at her. “Ahiru…”

“Oh Beast…” Ahiru’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry… this is all my fault…”

“No… no, you… idiot…” he rasped. “None of this is your fault.”

“But my father…” Ahiru let out a sob. “He… he…”

“He made the choice on his own. You aren’t responsible for it.” He managed to weakly shake his head. “Don’t drown yourself in guilt over this. Please.”

“But he hurt you.” Ahiru touched his face, even as tears ran down hers. “Where… where is he now? Are we safe?”

The beast nodded slightly. “Yes. I… managed to overpower him. He… fell into the brook and floated away, I…” He coughed. “I don’t know where he is now.” He seemed to frown. “I’m sorry if that causes you pain.”

“No, no.” Ahiru shook her head. “He was trying to hurt you, you just defended yourself.” She had no wish to see the gruesome sight of the corpse, but all the same she could not be sorry that her father was dead. Not after all the cruelty he had inflicted on her and her sisters. Not after he’d tried to kill her dear beast. “I’m only worried about you.”

The beast seemed to sigh, and it turned into another cough. Then, after a lengthy pause, he spoke again. “Fakir.”

“What?” Ahiru blinked down at him. “What’s that? Who’s that?”

“It’s…” The beast coughed again, sending some blood onto his already-stained shirt. “My name. You always asked… I thought you might… that I should tell you before I…” He trailed off into another coughing fit.

“No! No!” Ahiru shook her head. “Don’t say that! Fakir… you… you have to stay alive! You’re going to be all right! I’ll save you! I promise!”

“No, I…” After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted his hand to her cheek. He expected her to flinch and pull away, but Ahiru instead leaned into his touch as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry… you can still stay here after I… everything is yours… I…” He coughed again, and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry…”

“No!” Ahiru clutched at his hand as it started to fall away from her face. “No! Fakir! Please… please don’t leave me! Please! I… I love you!”

The whole world seemed to hold its breath for a moment after she said the words. A thunderclap then sounded, despite that the sun shone on them. Ahiru lost her grip on his hand, and reached out frantically for him, but he had already slipped away. Light surrounded his body as he hovered in the air, obscuring her view of him, and she was forced to cover her eyes lest she be blinded. But it soon enough cleared, and Ahiru looked up to see the handsome man she had had so many melancholy dreams about standing before her. She rose and took a tentative step forward, barely believing her own eyes.

They stared at each other for a minute, neither daring to speak. Then Ahiru broke the silence. “Fakir? Is… is that you?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s me.”

His voice sounded so different from the beast’s, but Ahiru could tell that it was him nevertheless, merely by looking into his eyes. They were the very same green eyes she had come to cherish so much. She raised a trembling hand to touch his cheek. “H-how?”

“A curse.” Fakir closed his eyes as her fingertips brushed his skin. “From a cruel great-grandfather, who felt I was not kind or polite enough, and who himself delighted in tragic tales altogether too much. He gave me that beastly form you know so well, and laid it on me that if I did not find someone to love me despite my appearance by sunset today, I would remain a beast forever.”

Ahiru gasped. “That – that’s terrible!”

“Yes. But… you saved me.” Fakir opened his eyes and smiled gently at her, and for a moment Ahiru felt like her heart would stop. He was so _beautiful_ when he smiled. “Thank you, Ahiru.”

“Of – of course, I…” She swallowed. “I meant it…”

“I know. The spell wouldn’t have broken if you didn’t. And…” Fakir took her hand and softly kissed it. “I love you too.”

Ahiru’s eyes grew wide at this. “Y-you… you do?”

Fakir nodded, not taking his gaze from her. “I do.”

This was too much joy for Ahiru to bear, and she burst into tears even as she embraced Fakir. This time he put his arms around her and held her, and when she had finished crying they laughed together out of their overwhelming happiness before sharing a first kiss.

As for the rest of their story, well – I am sure you can guess. They married each other soon afterwards, and lived happily ever after to the end of their days.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the language of flowers, the meaning of violets differs depending on their color. The violets I used here are a bit of both white and blue, so I will list both meanings. White means “let’s take a chance on happiness”, while blue means “faithfulness” and “I will always be true”. The flower I described is very real, of course. And its name? Freckles. Which I think is rather perfect.


	7. Accident - 2015

He doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late.

What he remembers of it is scattered, at best – the screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, sirens, the smell of blood. Pain. Voices shouting indiscriminately. People finally move him out of the wreckage, and he’s moved somewhere else, somewhere white and sterile. He tries to speak, to ask for her, but nothing comes out. And before they can even get him onto the operating table he slips away.

It’s dark after that; for how long, he’s not sure. But then the darkness clears, and there’s – sun. Sunlight, peeking in around the curtain he didn’t quite close all the way the night before. He lifts a hand to his eyes to blot it out and then freezes, the déjà vu overwhelming. He just did that – didn’t he? The same action, he just – the curtain, what he’s wearing, he’s – it’s –

– it’s the same day. It has to be. He remembers it so vividly. The way the sunlight came in, the way he left his room the night before, the sleep clothes he’s wearing… it’s all the same as that morning. The morning before the accident.

But _how?_

He racks his brain, thinking over every detail he can remember. Hope rises in him that the entire day, up to and including that horrible wreck, was just a dream. He lets himself indulge in that happy thought for a while. Everyone has really vivid dreams once in a while, right? That’s all that was.

… No. It wasn’t. And he knows it. The knowledge sickens him in a way he’s never felt before. Every last bit of it, up to and including the accident that took his life, really happened. He’s dead. He’s dead, and somehow reliving his last day on Earth.

His last day with her.

Bile rises up to replace hope, bitter taking the place of sweet. Will she know? How does this work? What’s he supposed to say to her? A billion awful questions flit through his mind, and all the while he’s picturing her face. Her sweet, lovely face. What in the world is he going to say to her? What _can_ he say?

He lets himself lie there and cry until his alarm goes off, and then gets up to go face this last day a second time. He hopes he can be strong, for her sake. He tries to mentally prepare himself for seeing her the whole ride over and as he walks up to her apartment. He’s not sure if he really is, in the end, but he rings her doorbell anyway. No sense in wasting what little time they have left.

Ahiru’s eyes light up when she opens the door and sees him. “Fakir! Hi!” She stands up on her toes to kiss him, and he bends down to meet her. She’s so tiny, and he just – he wishes he could gather her up in his arms and hold her and never ever let go. But today is the day they have to let go of each other forever. “I – I’m ready, mostly, just give me a second, I’ll get my stuff!”

She bounds off to grab her purse and keys and whatever else she needs, and Fakir lets his face crumple for a moment.   _She doesn’t know._ She has no idea what this day will bring, what it will end up _taking_ from her. She’s completely unaware of the devastation in store for her, she’s just… happy to be with him. Obviously, he can’t tell her – he can’t do that to her, he can’t shatter that happiness and ruin her last day with him. He has to make it the best it can possibly be, so she can have some good memories to comfort herself with in the aftermath.

Or maybe _he_ just can’t deal with it. Maybe he’s just too much of a selfish coward who can’t handle the sight of sweet little Ahiru crying. Fakir’s breath catches in his throat as the thought surfaces. Is that what this is? Is he a coward who wants to run from reality at Ahiru’s expense? Would it be better to let her know? Is he really being selfish?

 _No,_ he thinks sternly _. No. What good would it do to tell her? What’s the use of hurting her ahead of time, with a story that won’t even sound believable?_ And he knows what she’ll say: she’ll try to come up with a way around it, to change what happened. She’ll get false hope and try to convince him to stay at her apartment that night, or let her drive him home. And what then, when it’s dashed? It’ll just hurt her all the more, and worse, might get her injured or killed too, if she’s the one in the driver’s seat when that speeding car slams into his. He can’t do that to her, he can’t risk her life like that. No, she should live a long and happy life, and though it hurts that he won’t be able to be in it, it’s better than dying together.

He puts his happy face back on when she shows up at the door, duck pin affixed to her little yellow sundress now, purse over her arm and sunglasses and keys in her hands. “Ready, sorry! I couldn’t find the pin at first… I’m so feather-brained…” She laughs nervously.

“It’s okay.” He bends down and kisses her forehead. “You’re wonderful the way you are… no apologies necessary.”

“Noooooo, no, you’re too sweet,” Ahiru protests, blushing. “I’m just… just a silly feather-brain, I’m not _perfect_ or anything…”

“To me you are.” He takes her hand so he can kiss it, and barely manages to avoid flinching at the feel of the engagement ring on her finger. “Come on. Let’s go have fun.”

“O-okay!” Still blushing, Ahiru beams up at him, and then slips her hand out of his grasp so she can lock her door.

They go, as they did the first time they lived this day, to the county fair. It’s about a half hour’s drive away, if the traffic is good; today it’s a bit slow, but Fakir doesn’t mind. Ahiru’s in the car with him, and he knows nothing’s going to happen _now_ , so he can relax a bit and enjoy the sound of her chattering to him and singing along to her favorite songs. She’s off-key, and her raspy, duck-like voice would never be called melodic by the stretch of anyone’s imagination, but he doesn’t care. He cherishes every note, every word, even just the way she hums to herself. Maybe if they’d been able to get married it would’ve gotten on his nerves twenty, thirty years down the line, but he’ll never know. And it certainly doesn’t annoy him today.

He decides on the ride over to label the previous version of this day “yesterday”, just to simplify things. It’s not really technically true, maybe, but it makes it easier to refer to in his head. So when he parks he reviews what happened yesterday. When they got inside, they argued a little about where to go first and how to handle seeing things. He’s always been someone who likes to go in with a plan, after all, so he had very definite ideas about what to see first and which order to go in. Ahiru, meanwhile, is more relaxed, and wanted to just wander around and take things as they come. They ended up kind of compromising, but he doesn’t like the idea of rehashing any argument when he knows their time is so limited. So today he’ll let her take the reins, and they’ll wander freely, and her happiness will be unmarred by a stupid fight.

“Where do you want to go first?” he asks once they’ve finally gotten their tickets. Yesterday they each paid for their own, but today he insisted on buying both, to treat her. Ahiru insisted, in return, that she be allowed to treat him when it comes time to get food, and he acquiesced without protest. It’s a road they’ve been down before, after all, on many an ordinary day – they each like to treat the other and try to keep it equal.

“I dunno…” Ahiru glances around. “Wh-what about you? I was kinda thinking of just wandering around and doing things that look fun as we find them, but I know you don’t really like that…”

“No, that’s fine.” Fakir shakes his head. “Let’s do it your way this time.”

“Really?” Ahiru peers up at him with wide eyes. “You really don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” He smiles, and hopes the sadness doesn’t show in his eyes. “I’m way too stuffy. It’d be good for me to do something differently for a change.”

Ahiru giggles, and takes his hand so she can lead him along. “That’s true, you’re definitely kinda stuffy sometimes.” She squeezes his hand. “But I love you anyway.”

“I love you too.”

They wind up at the petting zoo first, and because they don’t waste time arguing over whose method of fair exploration is better or trying to look at other stuff along the way before they get there they’re able to participate in the duck show. Fakir takes several selfies of the two of them with the ducks, careful to use Ahiru’s phone. Normally he hates getting his picture taken, but today he’s going to do his best to fill up her phone with plenty of shots of them together.

Afterwards they backtrack, and Ahiru buys some cotton candy and a balloon from the stalls they passed by on her rush to the petting zoo once she saw the sign advertising it. She shares some of the candy with him, and he takes a few more pictures of them. And when she asks if he thinks she’s silly for reverting to kid-like behavior at the fair, he shakes his head and smiles, and tells her he’s just happy to see her having fun.

As they agreed, she pays for both their lunches, and they sit to eat them at a picnic table under the shade of a large tree. Ahiru chatters excitedly between bites about how much she’s enjoying all this, and what she wants to see and do next, while Fakir just listens, and agrees again to do whatever she wants, and says when she prods him that he’s having fun doing this her way. It’s the truth – just being with her is a joy, and it’s relaxing to just wander and take things as they come. He wishes he’d realized this sooner, or that he had more time and opportunity to let her influence him yet another way. If he could go back and change other days they spent together he would. The regrets sting: so much time wasted when they could’ve been lived a better way. He’d love to rewrite a lot of things.

But he can’t.

After lunch it’s off to the carnival games. He wins her prizes, as he did yesterday, cherishing the way her little face lights up at each one and the way she hugs the huge stuffed duck that is one of the prizes. She follows it up with a hug for him, and he returns the embrace, and for a few minutes everything is almost perfect.

The day can’t last forever, though, and his heart sinks the closer they get to sunset. They’ve done so much together today, but it doesn’t feel like enough. How could it? Time seems to be passing too fast, and he wishes he could slow it down, hold onto it a little longer. He reviews their past in snippets as the day edges closer to ending, remembering their first kiss, the first time he held her hand, the way she cried tears of joy when he proposed to her… so many firsts, so many happy moments. If only today wasn’t a day of lasts.

They watch the fireworks together, and then it’s time to go home. The traffic isn’t as bad as it was on the way there, and so the ride isn’t nearly long enough for Fakir’s liking. Ahiru is tired now too, so she doesn’t talk or sing as much. He wants to beg her to, so that he can hear as much of her voice now as possible, but he doesn’t.

He walks her to her front door, all too aware that this is the last time they’ll hold hands. She unlocks her door, and then turns to him to say goodnight. “I’ll call you tomorrow after I get off work.” She yawns. “Maybe we can get dinner or something?”

“… Yeah. That sounds good.” He can feel himself breaking, but he tries desperately to hold himself together for her sake. He takes her hand. “Did you… did you have a good time today?”

“Yeah! Of course I did!” Ahiru’s face lights up with another bright smile despite her exhaustion, one that hurts his heart to look at. “I always have a good time with you, you know that… and today was really, really fun! Thanks for everything!”

“You’re welcome.” He manages a smile somehow. “I… thank _you_. Because… I always have a good time with you too. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” Ahiru frowns slightly. “Fakir, is… is something wrong?”

He pauses for a fraction of a second, but the impulse to tell her what’s really going on swiftly passes and he shakes his head. “No, I just… I want to be sure you know that.” He touches her cheek. “You mean the world to me, and I don’t want you to ever think otherwise.”

“Of course I don’t!” Ahiru shakes her head. “I know that, don’t worry… a-and you mean the world to me too, I hope you know _that_ …”

“… I do.” He hesitates again, and then hugs her. “I love you, Ahiru.”

She hugs him back, pressing her face to his chest. “I love you too, Fakir.”

They kiss goodnight, and it takes every ounce of strength left in him not to deepen it, not to ask her if he can stay the night. So he simply says goodbye, and she says it too before closing the door, unaware that it truly _is_ goodbye.

Fakir finally breaks when he gets to his car, bending over the steering wheel as he weeps. He thinks about just staying here in the parking lot of Ahiru’s apartment complex all night, about going back up there and asking her to stay after all, even of just waiting here for an hour until it’s theoretically safe. But the risk of harm coming to her if he tries to change what’s already happened is unbearable, and so after the tears dry he finally starts up his car and drives off to meet his fate.

The last thing he thinks as he fades away is _I’m sorry, Ahiru._


	8. Partners - 2015

They always walk home from school together.

But today he can’t find her.

They usually meet at the library; he often stays after class to read or do research, for either a story or homework or both. She hangs out with her friends a little, or does some extra practice (she has her pointe shoes now, but still isn’t in the advanced class and desperately wants to move up), and then finds him and waits for him to be done. Today he only needed to pick up a couple books he’d reserved, and then he was ready to leave and go home, but she’s nowhere to be found. He looks all through the library twice, and then waits a little outside, trying not to worry.

She still doesn’t show up.

So he starts searching other places, anxiety building with each failure. The gazebo, the practice rooms, he even talks to people he doesn’t know and asks if they’ve seen her. Nobody has – even if they know who he’s talking about, they shake their heads and apologize, and then go off to do their own thing.

And then he sees them outside the girls’ dormitory: her two friends, whom she inexplicably reforged her relationship with after returning to humanity. He doesn’t understand why she’d choose them of all people, she’s a sweet girl who could probably befriend anyone, but he doesn’t say anything to her because he knows it’s not his place to, he doesn’t get to choose her friends for her. As long as she’s happy with them, that’s the most important thing (though he personally isn’t happy with the effect that that one girl has on her self-image). He braces himself, and walks up to them.

Lilie speaks first, before he can even open his mouth. “Ooh, look, Pike, look who’s approaching us!” She nudges Pike. “How mysterious! I wonder what for! Some dastardly scheme, perhaps, or to get in on the latest gossip? So many possibilities!” She winks.

Fakir just barely manages to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Have either of you seen Ahiru?”

“Yeah, she already went home a little while ago.” Pike frowns. “She seemed kinda upset. Did you two fight or something?”

“Ooh, I bet they did!” Lilie squeals. “They must be experiencing a _terrible_ rift in their relationship! Maybe she found him with one of his dance partners in those library rooms, you know, the ones where you only take _certain people_.” She giggles. “Or she did something oh so clumsy and scatter-brained, you know how she is, and he reacted badly and said something heart-wrenchingly cruel, and she fired back at him, and it turned into a shouting match with name-calling and now she can’t stand the _sight_ of him.” She lets out a dreamy sigh. “How tragic and dramatic… I wish I could have seen it… I’ll have to comfort her tomorrow, assuming she even comes to school… she might just stay in bed weeping all day…”

“No, we didn’t.” Fakir chooses to ignore Lilie, aside from giving her a brief and very withering glance that she doesn’t even notice, she’s so lost in her outlandish fantasy. “I just couldn’t find her anywhere is all. I’ll head home.”

He walks away without bothering to say thanks or goodbye, his mood further soured by the conversation; Pike says something he can’t understand but assumes is grumbling over his rudeness. Lilie, of course, has to chime in with some overwrought opining, and he’s glad that he only catches a few words, because those alone are enough to further irritate him. He’ll never understand why Ahiru wants to bother with them, Lilie especially.

The closer he gets to home, though, the irritation fades and becomes worry again. It isn’t like Ahiru to just rush home without him. In fact, she’s _never_ done this before. And she was upset? _Did_ he do something to make her angry? He racks his brain as he walks, trying to think of something. They haven’t really seen each other all day, not since ballet lessons this morning, so he didn’t have the chance to –

And that’s when it hits him. He suddenly knows, or at least has a strong idea what might be bothering her. Fakir picks up his pace, his stomach churning and his mind focused on what an idiot he is, why didn’t he think of this before, he’s such a fool. So many thoughts, and none of them complimentary. When he gets home, he doesn’t bother changing, just dumps his books on his desk and goes straight to Ahiru’s room.

Her door is closed so he knocks, a bit hesitantly. “Ahiru?”

What sounds suspiciously like a sniffle comes from inside her room. “Fakir?”

“… Yeah. Can I… come in?”

“Um…” She dawdles a bit before answering. “Y-yeah, sure… I guess…”

He tries not to sigh. “Is it okay or not?”

“Y-yeah, it’s okay… sorry…”

He doesn’t respond to her apology, just eases the door open. His heart aches when he sees her – she’s sitting on the floor with her back against her bed, her knees drawn up and her arms around them. She’s changed already into casual clothes, one of those sweaters that are too big for her tiny frame, and soft sleep pants; he can see her little toes poking out from under them. It’s all very adorable, aside from the fact that she’s obviously been crying, her eyes red-rimmed and damp. Fakir does sigh this time, and sits down beside her. “So… what’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” Ahiru hides her face against her arms. “I – I’m fine.”

“Idiot. I can tell that you’re not.” Fakir hesitates, and then lays his hand on the back of her head and strokes her hair. “You’ve been crying, and you ran home alone. That’s not like you.”

“It – it’s nothing,” Ahiru insists, still not looking at him. “Nothing important, anyway… just something stupid… you don’t wanna hear it.”

“Yes, I do.” He strokes her hair some more. “Especially if it’s because of something I did. How can I avoid doing it again if you won’t tell me?”

“Th-that’s just it, though.” Ahiru hiccups, and he notes not for the first time how much her hiccups sound like little quacks. “You – you can’t really avoid it, it’s… it’s not…” She sighs. “It’s not that kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?” His heart is beating faster with dread and fear. Maybe his idea was wrong? Is there something he did that he doesn’t remember? “Ahiru, I – if I hurt you somehow, I want to know – I don’t want to keep doing it without knowing it, I want to try to stop.”

“But you really can’t, unless… I mean…” She makes a little noise of frustration. “It’s just me being a stupid baby. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re not.” He moves his hand to her shoulder and squeezes, gently. “Just say what you’re feeling and we’ll try to work through it. Use your own advice, the advice you gave everyone else – your feelings are your own and they’re valid. Nothing’s going to change if you don’t talk about them and work through them.”

“I – I know, but…” Ahiru sniffles. “It’s not something you or anyone can help, it’s kinda… it’s kinda my fault but also kinda not, but also kinda someone else’s and also kinda nobody’s, it’s just… it’s so silly.” She dashes at her eyes as more tears fall.

“I won’t laugh at you or anything like that,” he says quietly, and squeezes her shoulder again. “Just tell me, all right? I promise I won’t dismiss you.”

“I – I know.” She lifts her head a little, and he sees her lower lip wobbling. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me… sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, idiot.” He rubs her back. “Just… talk to me.”

“O-okay… I’ll try…” Ahiru hiccups again, and wipes her wet cheek. “I – I just… I mean…” She sighs, and stares at her knees. “It – it’s sad enough that I never get to be your partner in class, but seeing you do _that_ dance with somebody else…” She presses her lips together. “I – I know it’s silly, and I know it’s not really _our_ dance or anything like that, just… just… it made me really sad and it was hard to watch, cause I _do_ associate it so much with that time and how I felt and how you made me feel with what you said during it, and I just…” Her voice breaks.

“No, I… I understand. Honestly, I… didn’t really want to do it, not with someone that wasn’t you.” Fakir sighs and shakes his head. “That said, I understand if you’re mad at me for doing it.” He shifts. “Sorry… I…”

“No, no…” Ahiru shakes her head too. “I – I’m not mad at you or jealous or anything, I know it was for class and it’s not the same as when we did it, it wasn’t your choice, that’s what I meant when I said it was kinda someone else’s fault but kinda not, cause the teacher wanted you two to demonstrate it but it’s not like she knew how significant it was for us, and it’s not your fault you got picked, that’s why I said you couldn’t avoid doing that kind of thing, so like I said I’m not mad or jealous, just… just sad.” She frowns. “Cause I never get to be your partner for that stuff and everyone knows I’m not good enough and…”

He waits for her to finish, but she doesn’t, and so he asks the next question, even though he feels like he already knows the answer. “This isn’t just about dancing in class, is it?”

A few seconds pass, and then Ahiru shakes her head. “N-no.”

“I didn’t think so.” Fakir sighs, though it isn’t one of irritation; after a beat he goes on. “Look, I… well, first of all, you’re wrong, you’re more than good enough. And second… even if people really are saying that, then… they’re not people I want to speak to or have anything to do with anyway.”

Ahiru sniffles again. “You don’t want to talk to _anybody_ , though.”

“Not true.” He kisses the top of her head. “I like talking to _you_.”

“N-no, you… you only talk to me cause you have to.” Ahiru shakes her head. “That’s different.”

“I… what?” Fakir stares down at her, words failing him. “Ahiru, I… why would you think something like that?”

“I don’t know…” She’s kind of mumbling. “I mean… what could be fun about talking to _me?_ ”

“Lots of things.” He takes her hand and softly squeezes it. It’s such a simple little thing, but he loves holding her hand. “But especially just getting to hear your voice.”

Ahiru’s expression turns to a confused frown that almost looks like a pout at the same time, and it’s unbearably cute. “But… there’s nothing good about my voice…”

“Maybe not to you, but to me it’s…” He pauses to gather his thoughts. “I do like the way it sounds. Honestly. But it isn’t just that, it’s… well…” He swallows. “When… when a person passes on, their voice is one of the things those that knew them miss most, and fear forgetting. Most people would give anything just to be able to talk to a lost loved one just one more time.” He pauses again, and when he resumes speaking his voice is slightly hoarser. “It… wasn’t exactly like that, you were still here, I know, but still… there were some things that made it feel like that at times and I…” He stares down at her hand in his. “I really wanted to hear your voice… I’m so _selfish_ …”

“Fakir, no.” Ahiru shifts so that she’s facing him, and lays her other hand atop his. “That’s not selfish… I wanted to be able to talk to you back then, and – and if it’d been the other way around or something happened to you, I…” Her voice catches, and wavers. “I’d want to hear your voice too…”

Fakir turns to look at her, and sees how bright her eyes are. And there’s the remnant of a tear on her face, right where her freckles are. He reaches out to wipe it away, and hears her sharp intake of breath at his touch; it makes his heart flutter. “You understand, then?”

“Y-yeah.” Ahiru nods. “S-sorry for saying such a stupid thing… that was mean…”

“It’s all right.” He lifts her hand and kisses it. “I know you’re not feeling great right now.” He takes a breath and lets it out. “Just remember that we’re always partners, okay? No matter who we dance with in class.”

“I – I’ll try!” She nods. “S-sorry to be a bother today.”

“Idiot.” He lets go of her hand, but only so he can touch her cheek. “You’re not a bother. A silly duck, sometimes, but not a bother.”

“W-well, you’re – you’re silly too!” Ahiru pouts a little. “Always saying mean things about yourself!”

He considers reminding her that unlike what she thinks about herself, the things he says about himself are all true, but decides against it. Instead, Fakir smiles softly at her, making her expression soften as she blushes. “Fine.” He slips his arm around her. “We’ll be silly together, then.”

“Okay.” Ahiru snuggles close. “That sounds good.”

“… Yeah. It does.”


	9. Books - 2016

He keeps the memories of her locked tightly in his heart, like pressed flowers in books. She is long gone now, has been for many years, but whenever he wishes to see her all he needs to do is close his eyes and flip through the pages. Like rereading a favorite novel, it all comes back to him piece by piece.

So many scenes replay themselves behind his eyelids, detailing their entire history. It begins with their first meetings, his initial impressions of her, how wrong he was and how badly he behaved. Even at his advanced age a part of him wishes to cringe away and let the memories fall into dust, but he doesn’t. He has never allowed himself to forget. As painful as the recollections are, he knows that first drafts mustn’t be erased. You need to be able to look honestly back at where you started to appreciate where you are now, the edits you’ve done. She taught him that. She taught him so many things. To let himself forget this lesson, forget where he began, would be an insult to everything she was and all that she did for him and countless others.

And besides, time marches on. Not just in reality, but in the realm of memory too. He moves past those terrible first moments, and onto gentler ones. Shared smiles and blossoming friendship, gestures of trust, a small hand clutched in his, eyes filled with concern and caring. Freckles and bright hair and an infectiously sweet laugh. He draws the images in, holds them as close as he once held her beneath a lake, telling her it was fine to be a duck for the rest of her life, ignoring the cracks forming in his heart at the thought of never seeing her like this again or hearing her voice.

That last sight of her. Yes. His mind lingers on it for an impossible amount of time, far longer than the moment lasted when it happened. He’d tried so hard to be strong for her and Uzura alike before she ran off, but in the end he’d succumbed to weakness and turned, needing one last look at her before she gave up that form forever.

Forever. Yes. He swallows past the growing lump in his throat. It did turn out to be forever. Oh, he’d tried to use his gift to write her back to a human. How he’d tried and tried. But the magic eluded him, over and over, until with tears in her eyes she’d begged him to stop, that she wasn’t worth the pain he was putting himself through, that she could let go of this dream and accept her fate. He’d cried too, holding her close against his chest and weeping onto her feathers. He’d apologized so many times, so many times he’d lost count. And though she repeated just as many times that it was alright, that she’d be fine, that it really was okay, he never let go of the guilt over failing her one more time.

Especially once he had to bury her.

It’d been inevitable, of course—ducks do not live as long as humans. He’d known that all along. But he’d hoped. He’d hoped, oh how he’d hoped, for a different fate for her. That some of Drosselmeyer’s magic might’ve remained, letting some human stay with her even as a small bird, and she could grow old alongside him. But fate was not so kind, and few things are as cruel as shattered hopes. She died in his arms early one cold spring morning, and he wept bitterly over her, that someone so sweet should have been so cheated out of so much. He buried her, with Charon’s help, but only in the ground. Deep in his heart, he has never let go.

The years pass, turning into decades, transforming him into the elderly man he’d never thought he could be, back when he was a frightened, angry teenager. He grows older, quieter, sadder, his eyes never losing their haunted expression. For her memory clings to him like a ghost, love and loss weighing so heavily on a heart that in weaker moments he’s wanted nothing more than to cast aside the way Mytho (no matter how much time passes, he can never completely stop thinking of him with that name) had. He doesn’t marry, noting to himself the parallels between himself and Prince Lir (though he himself is no prince, and didn’t make much of a knight either), and moves into his twilight years, with only memories to keep him company.

His youth has abandoned him, but his thoughts of her never have.

Tears slip down his face now as he thinks of her, behind the glasses he long ago began to need. The memories are bittersweet, even happy moments tinged with regret. The regret that there are not more, that their good times did not start sooner, that he did not say or express some things to her while he had the chance. So much has been left unsaid, undone, an eternally incomplete manuscript. Not so very different, then, from _The Prince and the Raven_. That parallel too does not escape him.

But there is one last unexpected mercy that life has to grant him. It is with a memory of her smile that he slips away at long last, his final breath taking the shape of her name. And then, in that place beyond the last page, she is the first one he sees.


	10. Force - 2016

Fakir pressed his face to the window and sighed, the warmth of his breath fogging up the glass for a moment. That he might be leaving smudges where his dad had just cleaned that morning didn’t occur to his seven year old brain; he only cared about what was outside said window. 

Which was a whole lot of nothing, from his point of view. He could see trees and parked cars and someone walking by down the street, and the edge of the setting sun behind some houses festooned with Halloween decorations, but he didn’t see the person he was looking for. Where was she? He didn’t know what time it was, so he didn’t actually know if she was late yet, but, well, he was seven. Patience could be a foreign concept a lot of the time. Like now.

He sighed again, watching as the wind tugged a couple reddish leaves off a tree and tossed them onto a neighbor’s car. It was gonna be a chilly night, at least according to his parents, and it hadn’t been that warm today either. Fakir had spent most of the morning outside, at least until he’d gotten in trouble for jumping into the pile of leaves his mom had _just_ finished raking up, and been sent inside to his room, where he’d buried his nose in a book. He’d have preferred to just read from the start, honestly, but his mom had insisted on him playing outside “on a nice autumn day”. Not really fair of her to get mad at him for doing just that, in his opinion. Oh well, at least it’d gotten him back inside to his books.

“Still not here yet?” his father asked from behind him.

“No.” Fakir pouted out at the street. People were starting to emerge from the houses around his, groups of parents and kids of all ages, even teenagers. “Is she gonna be here soon?”

“I don’t know, we’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, though, come back in the kitchen.”

“What? Why?” Fakir’s voice held a hint of a whine. “I gotta watch for Ahiru!”

“She’ll show up whether you watch or not, and she’s not gonna go away just because you’re not at the window.” His father chuckled. “Your mom and I want to get some family pictures first, and then you can come keep watch for her if she’s not here yet. Okay?”

“Okaaaaaaay…” Fakir heaved a huge sigh and dragged himself away from the window and towards the kitchen. His dad was wearing a big old black bathrobe over his clothes, which he insisted was his Sith robes. Fakir didn’t think that really counted as a real costume, not like his Jedi robes that his mom had bought for him at Target, but there was no arguing with his dad about that stuff. His mom had tried a little bit more, though, putting on a white dress and doing her hair in buns on the side of her head. _That_ he approved of. Princess Leia was way cooler than any Sith, anyway.

“My little Jedi!” His mother beamed at him as he trooped into the kitchen after his father. “You look so dashing! Have you got your lightsaber?”

“Yeah.” Fakir held up his toy lightsaber. “A Jedi doesn’t go anywhere without one!”

“True!” She ruffled his hair. “Okay, now let’s take a family picture, all of us together. Strike a pose!”

“Yeah, okay.” Fakir moved to stand in front of his mom and dad, and extended the green plastic “blade” of his lightsaber before assuming a pose with it. His father, armed with a phone and a selfie stick (his mother’s idea, for family portraits like this, and now something his dad was maybe a little overenthusiastic about using), snapped a few pics of them. And just as Fakir was starting to get impatient, the doorbell rang. He lit up in an instant. “That’s gotta be Ahiru!” Forgetting that his lightsaber was still extended, he took off running towards the front door, ignoring his parents shouting after him to not run with the toy weapon.

And sure enough, it really was Ahiru at the door. “Hi!” She waved happily at him. “I’m here!” His best friend in the whole world was wearing a BB-8 costume, the orange on it matching her bright hair perfectly. Her hands were full too—in one was her bucket for collecting candy, and in the other was a backpack, stuffed with things for later.

“Hi!” Fakir flung himself forward to hug her; Ahiru returned it as best she could, though her round costume and the things she was carrying made it a little awkward. Once they were done Fakir let her into the house, and she put her backpack on a little end table by the couch. “Your costume looks cool!”

“Thanks!” Ahiru blushed a little. “So does yours!”

“Thanks, I—”

“Ah-ha!” Fakir’s father laughed as he walked up behind them. “Is this the droid you’ve been looking for, Fakir?”

“Yeah!” Fakir turned around to beam at his dad, even as he took Ahiru’s hand. “Can we go get candy now?”

“In a minute, in a minute. I want to get some pictures of you two, and I promised Ahiru’s parents that I’d take some and send them over. It won’t take that long, they’re not gonna run out of candy before we get out there,” he added.

“Okay, fine.” Fakir wasn’t that big on taking pictures, but he knew better than to resist on this. He’d already been afraid earlier that day of being told he couldn’t go trick or treating, after the incident with the leaves, and he didn’t want to make his parents mad now when they were almost ready to go. So he obediently posed for some more pictures, and then finally he got to leave, along with Ahiru and his father., his mom staying behind to hand out candy.

It was almost dark by the time they got going, and there were lots of other kids out and about and ringing doorbells. Most of the houses were decorated and brightly lit, but a couple were dark and closed up. A couple teenagers sprayed some kind of brightly colored, stringy stuff on one of them when no one answered the door, and Fakir’s father frowned. “Now, you see that? What they’re doing? That’s naughty, and not very nice at all. I don’t want you two ever doing that to anyone’s house.”

“Why’d they do it?” Ahiru looked up at him from under the cap of her costume, confusion all over her little face. “How come they’re spraying stuff?”

“They’re mad because the people who live there aren’t home to give them candy,” he explained. “Which isn’t very nice, is it?”

“No, it’s not!” Ahiru shook her head, dismay filling her eyes. “That’s mean! What if they wanted to be home, but they had to go on a trip somewhere? Now they’re gonna come home and it’ll be all messy!”

“Exactly.” Fakir’s dad nodded. “So don’t ever do that, cause it’s not nice.”

“I won’t!” Ahiru sent a dirty look in the direction of the teenagers who’d done it. “I’ll never be that mean!”

“Me either.” Fakir made a face too. “That’s what a bad guy would do. I’m a Jedi knight!”

“Yeah, you are.” His father smiled. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

He got no argument on that, and the little trio resumed trick or treating. A little ways down the street they came to the house of Miss Ebine, a friend of both their parents who ran a restaurant with her husband and always had yummy fresh-baked goodies for them whenever they visited her. She and her husband had decorated their house and lawn to look like a gingerbread house, and when she answered the door she was all decked out in a witch costume. “Well, well, well, look at this!” She let out an exaggerated cackle. “A Jedi and a droid! I don’t know if I should give anything to do-gooders like you, seeing as I’m an evil witch and all…”

Fakir was prepared for this. He’d practiced in front of the bathroom mirror earlier after putting on his costume, and now he was ready and excited about getting to do it for real. He lifted his hand and waved it slowly through the air in front of his face. “You _will_ give us candy.”

“Beep! Beep beep beep!” Ahiru added helpfully.

Ebine’s expression went blank. “I will give you candy,” she droned, and produced a huge basket heaping with store-bought goodies. Fakir and Ahiru grinned in delight as she tossed some into both their buckets.

“Thank you, Miss Ebine!” they chorused once she’d given them candy.   
“You’re welcome!” Ebine smiled warmly back at them. “Have a happy Halloween, and may the Force be with you!”

They continued on to many more houses after that, getting tons of candy, until their buckets were so heavy that they could barely carry them. It was fully dark by then, and more teenagers were running around and shouting, so Fakir’s father took them back home. Ahiru’s parents had given her permission to sleep over tonight, as it wasn’t a school night, so she changed into the pajamas she’d brought over in her backpack before joining Fakir back in the living room for candy and a Disney Halloween special. His mom made sure they ate a real dinner too, in between all the sweets, and when they’d finally had too much it was time to bring out the sleeping bags and turn off the lights. They stayed up whispering and giggling for a good long while in the dark, but eventually dozed off, happy and full of sugar. And when his parents came downstairs in the morning, they found two drowsy children who’d moved their sleeping bags close enough in the middle of the night to hold hands.


	11. Burning - 2016

Come here, my child, come closer and sit with me beside the fire, and I will tell you a story. A fairy tale, but also a true one. No, I don’t think you’ve heard it before, for it isn’t in any of your books, it’s too rare and obscure for that. And unusual, too. How? Oh, wait for that, don’t be so impatient. For however odd it is compared to its brethren, it does start like so many of them.

It all began once upon a time, in a faraway land, with a girl in a forest.

This girl was as sweet as sweet could be, but alas! she was not blessed with parents that treated her as kindly as she deserved. They lived in a poor village on the edge of the woods, and had very little to call their own. Food was scarce and hard to come by, and it seemed that something or other was always going wrong with the meager hut they called home. And while it is true that this makes some families band closer together and use their love for one another as a way to survive, the same could not be said for this trio. For the mother and father were cruel and selfish people, who ever sought to lay blame for their misfortunes on everyone around them, and this extended to their young daughter. Having desired a strong son to help with their farm and thus cause it to thrive, they were greatly displeased to instead receive a daughter, and a very small one at that. Thus they viewed her as a curse upon their bloodline, and whenever aught went wrong it was upon her tiny shoulders that the blame fell, with much castigation and abuse.

And yet despite it all, the girl remained kind, and ever sought to brighten the lives of those around her in the village. She clung to the hope that she might one day win her parents’ affection, and be treated warmly and with love, the way other children were by their own families. Their behavior gave her little reason to hope, but still she refused to let her spirits fall.

Now, I must also inform you of someone else who will soon be entering this story. You remember that this village sits upon the edge of a great wood, yes? Good. This forest was an enchanted one, but not a dark and treacherous sort, and the villagers did not fear it as long as they kept to the paths. These paths were maintained by the woman who lived deep within the woods, and sometimes ventured out to barter with the townsfolk. What kind of woman was she, you ask? Hush, child, I am coming to that. Have patience. She was a curious sort of person, gifted with the ability to do magic, and possessed also of a kindly heart. Because of this, she had appeared in the stories of others before this one, sometimes as a witch, sometimes as a fairy godmother. The roles are so similar, after all, that the same person may be able to fulfill them in different stories. This time around, however, she would be playing both parts at once.

For it was that the girl’s parents sought her out one fateful day, traipsing deep into the forest to request her aid. Tired of their ill luck and lack of money, they decided between the two of them that it would be best to enlist the help of a witch who could grant them fortune. They supplicated themselves before her, kneeling on her doorstep and begging for her to change their desperate situation, promising to do anything that she desired in exchange for this one thing.

Now, this witch was no fool. She had observed this man and this woman in town on more than one occasion, heaping abuse upon their young daughter for the slightest thing, even things that were not her fault. She knew better than to think that their countenances now were true and without guile, and that their greed and cruelty did not deserve a reward. However, there was the child to think of. The innocent, sweet child, who was in terrible need of a better home. Would these two be able to provide her with that if gifted with vast wealth? The witch did not think so. As she sized them up, watching the anxious expressions in their eyes as they waited for her answer, a plan came to her, a way in which she might free the child under the guise of helping her parents.

“Great wealth will indeed be yours,” she said, and had to hold back a sigh as she watched naked avarice make itself plain in their faces. “But it does not come without price. You must give unto me in return, your firstborn child, and then and only then will your dreams come true.”

As she had expected, they fell all over themselves promising that they would bring their firstborn child to her, swearing not to break their promise though it grieved them. This was a lie, of course, one that the witch saw through. As long as they did bring her, though, she cared little for the facade they chose to wear.

They held true to their word, yes. It was barely a matter of hours later when they returned, bearing their young daughter, who did not understand why she was being sent away, and begged her parents not to do this thing. They were adamant, however, painting it as a deed which must be done to maintain their honor and not anger the witch, and with scarcely a goodbye departed in haste with the trinket the witch had given them to bring about their change in fortune.

The young girl cried and cried. She still did not understand why she must be abandoned in this way, and feared the person with whom she had been left. Her hopes of winning her parents’ love had now been crushed, and her heart was broken. The witch knelt before the girl, and wiped her tears away, and told her that this was her new home now, and to be strong, for here she was loved, and here she would thrive.

And thrive she did. Once she had stopped crying, the girl began to find within her wonder at her surroundings. The witch lived not in any ordinary cottage in the forest, but in a gingerbread house that smelled as wonderful as looked, laden with colorful candy and frosting that never melted, even in the summer’s heat. Animals who lived nearby came forth often to socialize with them, and became the girl’s new friends. As for the witch, she played the role of fairy godmother and guardian to the girl, raising her with love and teaching her all she knew of magic.

Years passed, and the girl grew into a young maiden. Small of stature though she was, she nevertheless was possessed of beauty without and within. She had never lost her kind heart, and indeed it had only grown during her years with her fairy godmother, becoming ever more full of compassion and love and a deep desire to help others. Her hair was as red as the dawn, her eyes as blue as a summer sky, and her smile brighter than the sun. Freckles dotted her sweet face like little stars, and her laugh brought joy to all who heard it. She herself was filled with joy as well, believing herself to be fortunate beyond measure to have such a wonderful life.

Yet even joy must come to an end, and hers was to meet a particularly cruel one. On a day like any other, her fairy godmother sent her out into the forest to gather herbs. The girl took with her her wand, that her godmother had fashioned for her out of a fallen willow branch, along with a basket and a small luncheon. How long she spent in the woods she could not measure, but it was long enough for disaster to strike in her absence. When she returned to the clearing she found their house all ablaze, the air thick with the scent of smoke and spices and burning sugar, as well as something unfamiliar and so foul that it threatened to make her retch. Indeed, she did retch, from not just the smell but from horror and grief as well. Because as you will have guessed, her kindly fairy godmother had been as consumed by the blaze as any of the gumdrops on her roof.

What happened, you ask? It is a sad and horrific thing, that I hesitate to say to you. You might find it altogether too frightening. Oh? You are not scared, and wish to know? Very well, then. The girl’s parents had by now spent all of their fortune, and in their greed decided to return to the one who had granted it to them in the first place, thinking to ask for another. When she refused, they flew into a rage, and overcame the witch, and shoved her into her own oven before setting her house on fire. They were long gone by the time their daughter came back from her errand in the woods, and so she did not know of what had transpired, only the tragic results. She laid herself on the ground and wept as the fire burned itself out, wept for her poor godmother and all that she had lost in the flames.

At last, when only smoking embers remained and her tears had dried up, the girl picked herself up and ventured into the ruins to salvage what she could. A decision had been made while she cried. She would take her few possessions, and set out into the world, where she would carry on her godmother’s legacy and use her powers to help any who needed it. For not only did she truly desire to do good in that way, she also knew that it was the only thing she could do under the circumstances. After all, she was not a princess or a serving girl, nor yet the youngest of three, seeking her fortune in the wider world. She was a peasant, and the apprentice of a witch, and thus a person about whom no tales were told. The only option she had was to fashion herself into a witch or fairy godmother herself, to bring others happiness while never seeking any for herself. It was just the way of things, and she accepted it.

When she finished taking what little she could, the girl laid some of the herbs she had gathered that day upon the smoldering wreckage, and offered up a prayer to any celestial beings that might be listening, that her godmother might rest in peace forevermore as repayment for the kind deeds she had done in life. Then, her heart still heavy with grief, the girl departed the clearing and set off into the woods. She took not the path that led to the village of her birth, but one that would lead to a crossroads that she might use to reach a city. For while she knew not that her own parents had done this terrible thing, she did suspect that the source of the tragedy was within that village, and feared to set foot in it, lest the person or persons responsible seek to do harm to her as well.

Her travels took her a day and a night before she emerged from the edge of the forest. Signs at the crossroads told her which way she must go to visit this or that place, but all the names were unfamiliar, and she had no way of discerning which would be best. Her bravery began to falter as she considered each, unsure of what path to take, or how lengthy or dangerous they were. Her panic grew and grew as she stood there, staring at the sign, until at last the sound of hooves upon the ground caught her ear.

It was a knight upon a horse, not an old man but one quite young, scarcely older than herself, clad in the livery of a kingdom she did not know. His countenance was stern but not unkind, framed by long black hair, and containing green eyes that seemed to widen slightly as he looked at her, before he spoke in a voice that was deep and full of curiosity and concern. “My lady, are you well? You look distressed—is there aught I can do to help you?”

“Oh no, I could not ask you for help.” The girl shook her head. “You are most kind to offer it, however, and I thank you.”

“Please—it is my duty to help, it would be no trouble at all, if that is what you are thinking.” The knight shook his head back at her. “Tell me, my lady, what is it that troubles you this day?”

“Nothing, I think, that would require your services, for there is no dragon that needs slaying, only…” She wrung her hands. “It is only that I am new to these lands, and do not know which way to go, for none of these names are familiar to me, and I quail at the thought of making a choice without information to go on.”

“Here now, that is no small trouble. But I think that I can be of assistance.” He offered her a gentle smile, and she realized that he was very handsome a knight indeed. “If I may, I would recommend that you come to the kingdom I serve, for it is large and filled with opportunities for anyone who seeks their fortune, and a happy place to live in besides, ruled by a benevolent prince who loves all, and called home by many kind and warm people.”

“That does sound like a lovely place,” the girl admitted. “Is it very far?”

“It is some distance from here, long enough that you would not reach it on foot for some time,” the knight told her. “But never fear! For I am able to bear you on my horse, and thus hasten your journey considerably. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

The girl found herself blushing, though she did not know why, even as she nodded up at him. “It does. But only if it is no trouble. I do not wish to make things difficult for you.”

He told her it would be no trouble at all, and so she agreed to take him up on his offer. He helped her onto his horse, and off they rode, in search of the kingdom he called home.

They rode for no small handful of days, nearly a full week in fact, and during that time they talked much of their respective lives. The knight told the girl about the land in which he lived, and his family, and the prince he served, and of his strong sense of duty towards those he protected. The girl, in turn, told the knight of her cruel parents and her fairy godmother, and the tragedy that had befallen her, and what her aim now was. He offered her comfort and support as best he could, and by the time they drew up at the city gates she felt as though they had been friends for many years.

“It is here that I must leave you,” the girl said as they entered the town. “For my path now separates from yours, and it is up to me to find my own way and seek those who need my help. Yet, I will never forget you or your kindness, and indeed would repay you for all you have done for me.”

“Nay, you need not do such a thing.” The knight shook his head. “It is true that the stories dictate that you must be kind to strangers you meet by the side of the road, in order to be rewarded with what you need, but I am no prince or peasant boy on a quest. I am merely a humble knight, who desires only to serve his people, and I would be a wretched knight indeed if I tried to claim reward from a maiden in need of assistance. So fly on your way, fair lady, with a heart as light as air, for you owe me no debt. I wish you all the luck in the world in your task.”

“Thank you, good sir knight, and the same to you.” She curtsied. “Farewell.”

“Farewell, my lady.” He lifted one hand in a gesture of goodbye, and guided his horse off into the crowds. The girl watched him go with a pang in her heart. After their time spent together traveling, she had grown quite fond of him, and knew that in a different story she might yet hope for more than this brief acquaintance. But the rules were quite firm for one of her place in the world, and so she knew that it was futile to hope. Happiness for others, but not for herself: that was her destiny. She could not desire anything else, lest she seek disappointment.

Oh, now you are interrupting me again? Pray, do you not know how to be quiet and listen? Ah, very well, ask your question, I suppose it can do no harm. Hmm? What’s that? You think the girl is wrong, and may yet find happiness of her own? Well, that might be. But you’ll have to wait and see, and let me tell the story without any more interruptions. Can you do that?

Good. I will proceed. The girl set off into the city, seeking those who needed her aid. “For it must be,” she said to herself, “that many within so large a city may have troubles that require the assistance of one such as myself. I will find them, and do what I can.”

She found no one that first day, save an innkeeper who despaired of being unable to season the food she would serve to her guests that night without herbs. As the girl still had the rest of the herbs from the enchanted forest within her basket, she gave them freely to the innkeeper. This restored the jolly smile to the woman’s face, and she offered the girl a room at the inn free of charge, for as long as she needed. The girl thanked her, and went to sleep in the bed that had been provided to her.

When the sun rose the next morning, so did the girl. She readied herself for the day, ate breakfast in the inn’s common room, and then set out into the city with her basket upon her arm to look for more people to help. Close to midday she located one, when she walked past a house in a poorer section of town. A window was open, only a small crack as autumn was turning rather chilly, but enough to allow the sound of weeping to escape. Her heart moved, the girl moved to stand beside the window, and called out to the person within. A tall young woman with curly brown hair and a friendly, if tear-streaked face, walked up to the other side of the glass, and blinked as she saw her visitor. “Hello? Was it you that called out to me?”

“Yes, it was. Forgive me if I am intruding, but I could not help but hear your weeping, and am wondering if there is anything I can do to ease your suffering.”

“Oh… oh no, that is…” The young woman sniffled, seeming to be on the brink of bursting into fresh tears. “I cannot trouble a stranger with my problems, and even if I did feel that I could, I have nothing with which to repay any kindness, so I must decline, and offer you thanks for your concern.”

“Payment is not necessary.” The girl shook her head. “Tell me of your troubles, and I will see if there is anything I can do to aid you. My only wish is to help those in need.”

“Truly?” The young woman stared at her for a moment. “Then… then if I may speak freely… there is a young man whom I love, and have loved for some time. I have agonized over how best to express my feelings, and at long last decided upon writing him a letter. Yet now that I have come to that point, I find that my father has run out of ink, and that we cannot afford anymore for a fortnight. And meanwhile I fear that my love may find someone else in that time, and never know how I feel, for I am a coward who cannot speak aloud. What a fool I am!” So saying, she began to cry bitter tears once more.

“You are not a fool; or at least, no more foolish than any other who has ever loved,” the girl said kindly. “Here now, dry your tears.” And she held out a handkerchief, which the young woman accepted after opening the window some more, and used to scrub at her damp cheeks. “And count yourself fortunate that I have wandered past this day, for I have exactly what you need.” She dug into her basket as the young woman watched in wonder, and retrieved a bottle of ink scarred by smoke but intact and full nonetheless. “It is a survivor of a house that burned to the ground, but it will serve you well, I think, in allowing you to correspond with the one you love. Take it, and write to him of all your feelings, that he may know at long last.”

“Oh! My goodness!” The young woman took the bottle carefully, staring at it in shock before looking back at the girl, her eyes filling with tears of joy. “You are altogether too kind, to give me such a treasure! Is there truly nothing I can do to repay you?”

The girl hesitated. Loathe though she was to ask for compensation, for the same reasons as the knight, she knew that there were rules for how a witch must conduct business, and debts must be repaid. “A bit of bread and cheese, perhaps, to serve as my midday meal? If you can spare them, that is.”

“But of course I can!” The young woman nodded. “It seems a poor reward for all that you have done for me, but I am happy to give it. Here, allow me to welcome you in, and you shall eat at our table!”

The young woman let her into the house, and gave her bread and cheese and some fresh goat’s milk as well, to act as a midday meal. When the girl had finished they both thanked one another again, and then she set off into the city to find more people to help.

Day after day passed much like that one, with the girl setting out every morning to do what she could for the people of the kingdom. As she had expected there were indeed many, and she found herself kept very busy. The days turned into weeks, and before she knew it, autumn had slipped into winter, and at last they came to Yuletide Eve.

It was a bitterly cold evening, with snow falling and a chill wind blowing that cut through skin and bone, yet the girl would not allow herself to rest. Yuletide Eve was, after all, an auspicious day, and the chances of people in need of a midwinter miracle were high. So the girl stayed out late into the night, searching the streets for such a person.

In a darkened alleyway off one of the main streets, she finally found one. A little girl she found there, curled into a ball beneath her threadbare cloak, shivering and trying to keep warm. Her dark clothes made her blend into the shadows, and the girl would have missed her if not for the sudden burst of light flaring up from a match the child lit. The girl froze for a moment, the smell of the burning wood taking her back suddenly to a gingerbread house ablaze in a forest clearing, consuming all that she knew and loved, but after a moment she shook herself out of the painful recollection and moved to kneel at the little girl’s side. “Here now, are you all right? What are you doing out on such a cold night? You should come indoors with me, and be safe and warm!”

“Th-that is k-kind of you, b-b-but—” The little girl’s teeth chattered as she spoke. Beneath her hood, her hair was as green as a blade of spring grass. “I-I-I c-c-can’t. I m-must sell th-these m-matches b-before I go h-home.”

The girl frowned. “What a silly thing! Matches can be sold just as easily in the light of day as at night, and it is too late besides to get much business. You will catch your death of cold if you stay here, so come, let me take you where it is safe and warm and you may have something hot to drink and a blanket to lay over you.”

“N-no! P-please!” The little girl clutched at her arm, with stiff, trembling fingers. “M-my father will b-beat me if I return home with even a s-single m-match unsold, l-let me stay out here, please!”

As you might guess, those words awoke fresh horror in the girl. Here was someone in a situation not so different from what hers had been when she was this child’s age, trapped in a terrible home with those who abused her. She herself had been rescued from it by the kindness of her godmother, and it was plain to see that she must now perform a similar act for this little girl. She began to frantically cast about in her mind for what to do—for unlike her godmother, she had no way of providing everything that the little girl would need—and as she thought, she heard again the sound of hooves. Looking out from the alley, she could see someone on a horse not so far away, but obscured a bit nonetheless by the snow coming down in earnest. “Sir! Good sir! Sir knight! Please, will you come here?”

The knight in question heard her after she had called out to him a bit, and rode over to the entrance of the alley. To her surprise, it turned out to be the same kindly knight who had brought her to this kingdom in the first place. “My lady? We meet again. What troubles you this evening, when you should be safe and warm in your bed?”

“Me? What about you?” She gestured towards him. “Shouldn’t you be with your family, celebrating?”

“My duty calls for a little longer, and you are fortunate that it does, are you not?” He raised an eyebrow, looking faintly amused, and it was all she could do not to playfully stick her tongue out at him as children were wont to do. “Tell me how I can once again help you.”

The girl shook her head. “It is not me that requires help, but her.” She gently pulled the little girl up, and tugged her over to stand beside the knight’s horse, where she shivered and clutched at her cloak. “This child is being made to sell matches late into the night, by a father she says will beat her if she returns home with the task undone. Please, is there anything a knight such as yourself can do to aid her? I fear for her safety, for she faces the choice of returning home to cruelty, or staying out and freezing to death.”

The knight’s eyes narrowed, and anger flashed across his handsome features. For a moment the girl feared that she had asked him for far too much. When he spoke, however, he laid that fear to rest. “Yes. I will take her to the castle tonight, where she will be fed and provided with a comfortable room, and in the morning justice will be carried out against her unfit parent. A permanent home will then be found for her, that she may grow up in kinder circumstances.”

“Oh! Thank you, sir knight! Thank you so much!” The girl sank into a deep curtsy. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“As before, you need not, for this is my duty, and I would not see any child condemned to such a terrible fate.” The knight shook his head. “Here, help her onto my horse if you can, and I will bear her to safety.

The girl did just that, and after she had thanked the knight once more for his help he rode off into the snowy night. She watched him disappear into the windy white, and then bore herself back to the inn that had become her home.

Time continued to pass, bringing with it the new year and the beginning of spring. The girl kept busy helping others, and took up a job at the inn as well, helping with chores that eased in the maintaining of the place. When she wasn’t washing dishes or sweeping floors, however, she was wandering the kingdom far and wide, searching for people to grant miracles to. On one such day, fine and bright and bursting with flowers and the warming air of mid-spring, she walked as far as the outskirts of the city, where the buildings grew fewer, but no less fine. There might be fewer people there, but she had confidence that she would nevertheless find a soul in need.

Her search bore fruit, but not until the afternoon was all but spent, the evening coming on quickly. A beautiful young woman with hair as dark as a raven’s wing and eyes the color of roses in bloom sat upon the stoop of a once-great manor house, clad in rags and crying as though her heart was broken. Unable to leave her be, the girl hastened to her side. “Hello? Forgive me if I am too bold, but is there aught I can do to relieve your pain?”

“Wh-what? I… who…” The young woman stared up at her in shock. “You are… kind to ask, but… who are you?”

“I am… well, you may think of me as a fairy godmother of sorts.” The girl smiled. “And I am here to help you if you wish it.”

“A fairy godmother… so, the stories are true.” The young woman shook her head. “I did suspect as much, yet… I also expected someone…” She trailed off, her face reddening with embarrassment.

“Someone older?” The girl laughed as the young woman nodded. “I understand. I am only just starting out, you see, taking over for the fairy godmother who raised me and… passed away last year.”

“Oh dear, oh no, I am sorry for you loss, I have been unkind in reminding you of it.” The young woman looked down, shame flooding her expression. “I am as wretched as he says…”

“I do not think so,” the girl said gently. “Whoever tells you that is wrong.” She laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Tell me your troubles, and I will see what I can do to help you.”

“Well, I have many, but…” The young woman let out a bitter laugh. “For now, it is… it is…” She sniffled. “I have had meetings with the prince, you see, and I love him dearly, and he seems to return my feelings… but he does not know who I truly am. I had thought to go to the ball tonight, and tell him the truth, but my stepfather has forbidden me to go. I will never see the prince again, and never tell him anything, and he will forget me and marry another.” Her voice caught, and she began to cry again.

“No, no, I do not think that will be so.” The girl shook her head. “Alone you might not have been able to reach the ball, but I am here now, and I will help you. All is not lost.”

“But I cannot repay you!” The young woman looked up at her again, stricken and teary-eyed. “I am but a poor servant girl, with not a single possession or coin to my name, there is nothing I can give to you in return for such a boon!”

“And that is fine, for there is nothing I ask in return.” The girl shook her head once more. “Only that you make the most of the time that I will give you, that it is not in vain.”

“I will! I swear it!” The young woman nodded fervently. “I will do whatever you want if you will but give me this chance!”

“Then what I want is for you to be happy.” The girl smiled, and withdrew her willow branch wand from her basket. “Come now, we must find the necessary tools to get you to the ball.”

She used her magic to work a great many transformations—vegetables into a fine coach, mice into horses, a dog into a driver, two cats into footmen, and lastly the young woman’s rags into a gown without compare and glass slippers. Using so much of her power at once exhausted her, and she warned the young woman that there was a limit to her spells, that they could last no longer than midnight. The young woman assured her she understood, and then made her way off into the night, towards the royal ball she had been dreaming of. The girl then set off for her own home.

It was in the wee hours of the morning that she finally returned, tired beyond measure. She fell into bed and slept for hour upon hour, awakening late in the day. She did what she needed to take care of herself, as well as some chores at the inn, and then went back to bed once again.

A few days passed, during which she became vaguely aware that the prince was searching for a particular maiden who had been at the ball. The girl paid it little mind, however, returning to her normal life, until a summons to the castle arrived in the post not long after. Another ball was being held, this one to celebrate the prince’s engagement, and the royal couple desired her presence. Having never attended such a thing, she was as frightened as you might imagine. But yes, she went, hush now, I am still telling the story, all decked out in a lovely gown that she created from an old dress the innkeeper had given her.

Imagine her surprise and delight when she was introduced to the prince, and found that his bride to be was none other than the servant girl she had helped! Oh, you guessed at that, did you? How clever you are, truly. Now _hush._ And standing on the prince’s other side was the kind and handsome knight that she had met twice before. Their eyes met, and she would have allowed hers to linger on him if not for the pressing business at hand. She curtsied deeply to the prince and the princess to be. “Your Majesty, it is an honor to be here today. What might I do for you in return?”

“Honorable lady, you have already done more than I can repay.” The prince was handsome and fair, with snow-white hair and kind eyes of an amber shade. “For my lady love stands here by my side today, able to wed me, through your kindness. It is I who owe you.” He bowed. “To that end, I wish to offer you a position at my court, as the sorceress in residence, and a home within these walls. I think such a thing will serve both of us well—I will repay my debt to you, and you will be able to help many more in your official capacity than you are now. What say you?”

“I—” The girl’s eyes darted, for a fleeting moment, to the knight; his expression gave away little of his thoughts. She swallowed and returned her gaze to the prince. “I think… yes, I think perhaps that would be best.” She nodded. “I am not sure that I deserve such a thing, but that concern is outweighed by the joy it brings me to think that people may freely approach me when they are in need of my help, rather than my seeking them out, and relying on luck to be able to find them before it is too late. I accept your offer, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for such kindness.”

“Nonsense. It is the very least I can do as repayment for the happiness you have bestowed upon me.” The prince raised his arms into the air. “And now, with that settled, let the celebration commence!”

Confusion soon reigned around the girl, as the gathered guests took to the ballroom floor and began to pair off for dancing. Unaccustomed as she was to all that, the girl hurriedly disentangled herself from the throng, and made her way to the edge of the room. For a while she did little more than watch the ball get underway, wishing she dared join in while also wanting to be back at home. Although… it would not be her home for very much longer, now that she was going to live at this castle as the prince had offered. Her head spun. She hadn’t thought very much about that aspect, would it be too much for her? Oh well, even if it was, her focus would remain on attaining happiness for others. Her own feelings were not of great import in the grand scheme of things.

In the midst of these melancholy thoughts, the knight appeared, and made his way to her side. His face was flushed, as if he’d been exerting himself quite a bit, and he did not meet her eyes as he spoke. “May I—would you—could I dance with you?”

“M-me?” She stared up at him in wonder. “Truly?”

“Truly.” He extended one hand to her. “If you will have me as a partner, that is.”

“Oh! Of course!” She nodded and took his hand, and he led her onto the dance floor.

They danced for some time, though the girl was inexperienced and uncoordinated and trod on his feet more than once. He was patient and kind with her, however, and when they tired he gently led her out onto a balcony, where they could get some fresh air. They stood together in silence for several minutes, cooling down and enjoying the view of the castle grounds.

Then the knight spoke. “You are to be living here, then?”

“Yes.” The girl nodded. “It seems we will see each other more often.”

“Yes.” He paused. “Indeed, I… if I may be so bold, I would like to say… that that is a thing I have often wished for.” His face was flushed again, and he turned away, apparently unable to look at her just then. “I confess that you have scarcely left my mind since first we parted, and I have longed to see you on a regular basis. Would I be out of line, then, in hoping to know you even better, now that you are to reside in this castle as I do?”

“I…” The girl hesitated. This had all the makings of an eventual happy ending. But happy endings weren’t for her, the rules were very strict about that. No tales were ever told about witches’ daughters finding happiness, of fairy godmothers getting married. As much as her heart burned for this, it could never be. “I wish, most dearly, that I could say otherwise. But… you know the rules of the stories as well as I do. There is no room in them for someone such as me to find personal joy. I must ever make do with granting it to others.”

“I see.” He sighed. “At the same time, however… is that your only objection? Tell me true.”

“It is. But it is the only one I need, is it not?” Her voice shook slightly. “No stories are written about the likes of me. You know that.”

“I do. And I know that I too am one who lacks a role in the tales. But I also know how I feel.” He took her hand in his, so gently she wanted to cry, and looked at her with tenderness and warmth. “And I know too that this is no story, and even if it was… can we not tell a new one? Are not rules meant to be broken, sometimes? Let this be the first story of a witch and a knight, a story that will give hope to others who believe they cannot find happy endings. For I do not think that you must accept the fate you think is laid out for you, not if you wish for another.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I ask you once more to tell me true—tell me if you wish to write a new tale with me, the likes of which has never been told before. And if you do not, then I will leave you be, and not ask again.”

“No—no please—” The girl began to cry. “Do not leave me alone, for I… I _do_ wish for such a thing, truly… if you think that we can do it, then… then…”

“Shhh. Do not cry, little fool.” He let go of her hand, but only so he could wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I will remain at your side forever, if that is your wish. Never fear.”

“I like that.” She smiled up at him through her tears. “That sounds wonderful.”

“So it shall be, then.” He smiled back at her. “And we will write our story, together, and bring hope to others like us.”

Which they did, spending many long years of happiness together. Their story does not, perhaps, attract as much attention as others do, but it does live on nonetheless. We should all take hope, as the knight said, from their achievement of a happy ending. For it does indeed prove that while rules exist, they are also meant to be broken on occasion, and are not absolute. Such was the lesson learned by the witch’s daughter and the knight, who lived happily ever after in spite of the rules which seemed to say they could not.


	12. Parody - 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick(ish) note about this fic: it’s based on a Diana Wynne Jones novel called _Dark Lord of Derkholm_ that parodies derivative fantasy. The basic premise of the book is that for forty years a man named Mr. Chesney has been forcing the inhabitants of a “fantasy” world to run tours that mimic fantasy quests, for inhabitants of his Earth-like world. There’s so much more to it than that, of course, but I think you only need this beforehand to be able to ‘get’ the fic! Suffice to say that ol’ Dross will be taking the place of Mr. Chesney for this au. Now, onto the story!

Ahiru’s fingers flew over the buttons of her bardic robes. Oh, she hoped she wasn’t too late! She’d overslept again, and having to put her hair in a fancy waterfall braid hadn’t helped her to move quickly through her morning routine. Curse Mr. Drosselmeyer and his ridiculous dress codes for these things! The Wizard Guide she’d been assigned to this year, Mr. Katz, had a reputation for being strict about punctuality, with any luck he wouldn’t chew her out. Luckier still if she managed to make it downstairs on time. And without any flaws in her appearance, either. She gave herself one last once-over in the mirror before grabbing her luggage and dashing out of the inn room.

As she’d dreaded, the entire Pilgrim Party—all six of them—from Mr. Drosselmeyer’s world was already assembled outside the inn, along with Mr. Katz. He’d used some kind of spell to grow an impressive beard to go along with the mustache that resembled a cat’s whiskers; said mustache twitched as he watched her emerge from the front door. “Ah. Mistress Ahiru. So nice of you to join us.” If he’d been a real cat, she had no doubt that his tail would be flickering impatiently against the ground. That thought made her have to swallow a giggle.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry, M—er, Wizard Felixus!” That was his new name, courtesy of one of Mr. Drosselmeyer’s agents. According to them, “Felix Katz” didn’t have the right “air” to it to be a wizard’s name, so they’d given him a change for the tours. That he was an actual wizard who really was named Felix Katz didn’t seem to matter. “Er, anyway, hello, everyone!” She smiled nervously and waved. “I am Ahiru, the official bard for your Pilgrim Party. It’s lovely to meet you all!”

Introductions commenced, with Ahiru worrying in the back of her mind that she might get mixed up later. There was the thirtysomething Ms. Geizsler, a schoolteacher who seemed to have her eye on Mr. Katz, and a married couple, Paulo and Paulamoni, taking a second honeymoon. Then there was a blonde girl, Lilie, who looked to be around Ahiru’s age, babbling about how she’d just graduated college and her parents were giving her a special treat as a present and don’t people sometimes _die_ on these trips, how wonderfully _tragic!_ Her friend Pike was with her, and she rolled her eyes and elbowed Lilie to be quiet, not to scare the others. Ahiru could tell that the two of them would make things lively, if nothing else.

Then there was the last one. A tall, quiet young man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and piercing green eyes that she found hard to either read or look away from. He nodded to her as he walked up. “Fakir. Good to meet you.”

“Y-yes!” Ahiru felt her cheeks flaming red. Wow, what a handsome guy! Behind her, she could hear Pike and Lilie giggling over him. “I-I’ll do my best!”

“I’m sure you will.” He gave her another nod, and a lingering look that made her blush even more furiously, and then walked past her so he could get on his horse. Ahiru took a moment to compose herself, and then hurried over to her own pony so that she could secure her traveling bags and cwidder. Maybe this was gonna be more fun than she’d thought it would be!

* * *

Soggy waybread was no one’s idea of a good dinner, but as they were still miles and miles from the nearest town and it’d been raining for days up till now, there wasn’t really much of a choice. Well, unless you counted the moldy cheese and questionable fruit that Lilie had smuggled in from offworld and was now sporting some fuzz that looked remarkably like Mr. Katz’ beard. No one wanted to go near the cheese, though, and even Lilie had decided to dump the fruit after Pike had talked sense into her. So soggy waybread it was. At least it’d stopped raining, and the sky was clearing. So when they’d all managed to choke down their tasteless meal, Ahiru brought out her cwidder and began to play a few songs to entertain them all around the fire with.

It didn’t prevent her from overhearing some of the conversations, though. Lilie was muttering to herself about how surely if you scraped the mold off it’d be just _fine_ —whether she meant the fruit or the cheese was anyone’s guess—and the married couple was giggling together. Most intrusive, though, was Ms. Geizsler cozying up to Mr. Katz and cooing, in what was likely meant to be a voice low enough for only the two of them to hear, “Oh, Mr. Wizard, don’t you ever get _lonely_ up in your tower? Wouldn’t you like some company sometimes?”

“Never,” he replied stiffly. “Wizards are—we are content with our books, and far too wrapped up in our work to ever consider m-marriage.” It was a bald-faced lie, one that made Ahiru almost pluck the wrong string as she struggled not to laugh. Mr. Katz had been happily married for over twenty years, with several children. But since that didn’t mesh with the popular image of the confirmed bachelor wizard that Mr. Drosselmeyer helped to sell his world on, that had to be kept quiet.

“A pity.” Ms. Geizsler sighed. “Still, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She winked and moved away to talk to Pike.

Fakir, as usual, sat a bit apart from the other Pilgrims, just quietly listening to Ahiru’s music. Their eyes met, and Ahiru, feeling brave maybe because she was playing, offered him a small smile. He smiled back, the first time he’d done that the entire week or so she’d known him, and this time she did pluck the wrong string. No one seemed to notice, though, and Ahiru swiftly recovered, her face all ablaze. Fakir quickly looked away too, seeming to blush as well, though in the firelight it was hard to tell.

* * *

Unfortunately, they didn’t have much of a respite from the rain; it resumed the next day and carried on late into the next, much to everyone’s displeasure. Well, that was the problem with conducting these blasted tours right in the middle of autumn, wasn’t it? Ahiru would’ve let loose with some well-chosen words about Mr. Drosselmeyer and his insistence on having the proper atmosphere for the Pilgrim Parties—apparently springtime didn’t have the right aesthetic for an authentic fantasy quest—if she didn’t know that she was likely to be heavily fined for breaking the illusion that this was all real. Mr. Drosselmeyer’s fines were nothing to sneeze at. And given that every Pilgrim Party had someone who was secretly reporting to Mr. Drosselmeyer, she couldn’t take any chances on someone overhearing her badmouth the guy.

In any case, the waybread was no longer just a little soggy by now, but total mush. At the campfire that evening, everyone stared at it without speaking. They didn’t need to: the despair that had crept over them was plain on their faces, and hung thick in the air. Ms. Geizsler reached out with one finger as if to tentatively poke at it, and then withdrew, having realized that it might be hard to pry off her skin after, if its consistency when dry was any indication. “Er… Master Felixus… you wouldn’t have any way to… restore it, would you?”

“Some things are impossible even for wizards,” he replied gravely. He exchanged a brief look with Ahiru. They both knew what the other was thinking: if only they were allowed to use the food storage they all actually used at home, not to mention pack real food, they wouldn’t be in this situation. But then, that wouldn’t be _authentic_.

Ahiru really hated that word.

Meanwhile, Pike and Lilie were shoving each other and whispering back and forth furiously, which culminated in Lilie letting out the most dramatic sigh Ahiru had ever heard, which was saying something as she’d graduated from Bardic College and knew several wizards. “Fine! Fine! But you better appreciate my personal sacrifice!” She opened up her pack, and after almost a full minute of floundering around in it produced a sealed plastic bag stuffed with what looked like offworld candy bars. “Here! We’ll dine on my secret stash, and you all better be grateful and bow down to my wisdom!”

It was like watching a pack of vultures descend. If you were one of the vultures yourselves, that is. Mr. Katz eventually had to divide up the candy bars himself to make sure everyone got an equal share, reminding everyone loudly that they would arrive in town tomorrow afternoon and so there was no harm in feasting tonight. This didn’t seem to sit well with Lilie, but a well-placed elbow from Pike silenced her, and they all dug in. True, it wasn’t the meal anyone would’ve ideally wanted, but compared to a pile of flavorless mush it was four-star dining.

Mr. Katz wandered off into the gloom after dinner, muttering some excuse about getting mystical guidance for their quest. Ahiru knew he was actually going to go meet with the wizard responsible for setting loose “leathery-winged avians” on their traveling party. And sure enough, just before Mr. Katz returned, a horrible smell wafted towards them, something like a cross between rotten eggs and burnt hair. Ugh! Ahiru wrinkled her nose. Did he really have to go _that_ far for ~authenticity~? Couldn’t he have just _said_ that the air reeked of wrongness and they needed to get moving? _Wizards!_ She rolled her eyes.

There wasn’t time to do much more than that, though, before the things descended. From what she’d heard, they were just kite-like contraptions with some kind of magic operating them, but they looked and sounded distressingly real as they dove and screeched at them. Ahiru darted amongst everyone else, making a show of trying to get to her cwidder so she could play the right song to drive the birds off. Mr. Katz was firing off spells at them that looked flashy but did nothing at all, and the tourists were yelling and trying to beat them back with whatever they had handy. Except for Fakir, who’d gone wide-eyed and washed-out, and stood frozen in the center of the chaos. Then he let out an awful scream, and cowering, shaking, on the ground. The sound of it tore Ahiru’s heart in two, and she wasted no further time in getting her instrument in hand and beginning to play. The notes soon sent the “avians” wheeling about and flying off into the night (back to the wizard who was controlling them).

After things had calmed down, Ahiru cautiously approached Fakir. He was sitting apart from the others, as he always did, his back to a tree and his knees drawn up to his chest. His head was down, but at the sound of Ahiru’s shoes crunching on some leaves, he looked up at her. He still had that sickly look to him, but his eyes flashed with a challenging look. “Come to laugh at me?”

“What? No!” Ahiru shook her head and sank down beside him. “I would never! I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Oh.” Fakir looked away. “Sorry. I just… I’m used to people making fun of me for… for this.”

“On your homeworld?” she ventured. He nodded. “For what? Being afraid of stuff?”

“Being afraid of birds.” Fakir sighed. “Nobody cares that it was cause I got viciously attacked by some when I was kid. I’m supposed to just get over it and not be afraid anymore. Not be weak.” He sighed again. “Maybe they’re right.”

“Or maybe they’re jerks.” Ahiru scowled. “That’s a really traumatic thing to have happen to you, you know? And even if it wasn’t for that reason, if you were just scared of them and didn’t know why, that’d be okay too! Everyone’s got something they’re afraid of. Anyone who says they don’t is lying.”

“I guess.” Fakir looked past her, at where Mr. Katz had gotten the fire going again. “I can’t help but feel ashamed, though… pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Ahiru shook her head. “You’re _fine_.”

“Am I?” He looked right at her. “What about tomorrow morning, when everyone else starts mocking me? And don’t tell me that that Lilie girl was screaming too, it’s different. _I’m_ not supposed to be scared. But I was, and now I’m going to be the laughingstock.”

“Well… I mean… I’m not gonna tell you to suck it up or anything because you never have to see any of those people again after the tour, cause we’ve still got plenty of tour left to put up with them… but I will say that I’ve got your back.” Her mouth set in a determined expression. “I won’t let them be mean to you, okay? I’ll stick up for you! And I can use my music to make them sorry, if it comes to that!”

“You’d… protect me?” He looked faintly amused.

“Yeah! Unless that’s not okay?” Ahiru gulped. “I mean, if you don’t want a girl protecting you, I understand…”

“No, it’s fine.” Fakir managed to laugh, and some of the tension seemed to melt from him, his shoulders relaxing. He had nice broad shoulders, Ahiru noted, and some of his hair had come loose from his ponytail to hang down around them, giving him an attractively unkempt look. “I’d be honored to be under your protection, Mistress Ahiru.”

“Oh no! Ew! Don’t call me that!” Ahiru wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Just Ahiru, please! 'Mistress’ Ahiru is my Bardic title, kinda old-fashioned, but M—Wizard Felixus insists on clinging to the old ways. Wizards.” She shrugged. “What can you do?”

“Alright.” Fakir smiled, his eyes softening and warming in a way that made her feel warm all over. “Ahiru it is, then.”

* * *

“Town, at last!” Mr. Katz’ voice, magically amplified for volume, rumbled over the group like thunder. Thankfully, the skies had been clear that day, and even if it rained in the night, they’d have a roof over their heads. Unlike last night—a storm had caught them by surprise once they’d finally fallen asleep, and had continued on till mid-morning. Ahiru still felt as soggy as the waybread, and was looking forward to having a room with a fireplace. “We shall make haste for the inn, where we shall rest the night, partake of a hot meal, and hopefully gather some information on the twelve legendary weapons!”

Right. That was this year’s gimmick for the Dark Lord that the tours had been choreographed around. He—the Dark Lord was always a man, Mr. Drosselmeyer didn’t think women could play the role—had been sealed away for a thousand years, and now that he had escaped from his magical prison he was wreaking havoc on the land. And the only way to defeat him was for each party to gather up the twelve legendary weapons capable of damaging him. Ahiru didn’t envy whichever poor overworked blacksmith had been saddled with the job of making all those things. After they left this town tomorrow, they’d travel on for another day or so before visiting a temple for guidance in their journey. Then it was off towards a sacked city, with an expedition into a troll cave for retrieval of one of the weapons thrown in there somewhere. And so on and so forth, having scripted adventure after scripted adventure, until they came to the Dark Lord’s citadel for the final battle.

One thing at a time, though. Ahiru headed with the rest of the party to the designated inn. She changed into dry clothes in her room—noting the obviously painted-on stains on the ceiling put there to make the offworlders think the place was dingier and more run-down than it really was—and then headed back to the common room, her stomach growling. She’d been to this inn before, actually, and knew they had good food, so for the first time in several nights she was looking forward to a meal.

As it turned out, though, her experience with the inn’s food was limited to the “off-season” when no tours were running. At those times, they offered a full menu full of delicious choices. Now, though, they had but two selections: stew and bread or a plate of bread and cheese. Plus ale. Ahiru had opted for the stew, and requested water instead of the ale. But, looking at the stew, she wished she’d gone for the bread and cheese instead. It was a viscous, dark brown concoction, that contained some kind of meat and presumably vegetables. Hard to tell. Ahiru poked at it with her spoon, noting the similarity in consistency to the sludgy mud they’d been dragging themselves through for the past several days. She sighed. More authenticity. Pilgrim Parties expected stew, so stew was what they got. _Damn_ that Drosselmeyer!

“Not very appetizing, is it?” Ahiru looked up to see Fakir standing there. He had a plate of bread and cheese (and a single thin pickle spear) in one hand, a mug of ale in the other, and a faintly amused look on his face.

She giggled. “Well, if nothing else, it’s got to be better than moldy fruit or soggy waybread. Jury’s out on the offworld candy bars, though.”

Fakir laughed. It was a deep, warm, pleasant sound that made her toes curl a little. “True. Anyway, can I—do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all! Please, go ahead!” Ahiru gestured to the empty chair opposite her. Not only was Fakir more than welcome company, his presence would probably work as a good deterrent to anyone playing the part of a rowdy local in search of female company. “I see you got the other menu option.”

“Yeah.” Fakir settled himself in the seat, and took a bite of his bread. His eyebrows went up as he chewed it. “It’s actually really good,” he said once he’d swallowed it down. “I guess they couldn’t bear to go _that_ far with their terrible fare, even for authenticity’s sake.”

Ahiru’s spoon slipped out of her fingers; the stew was so thick that it didn’t even splash. She stared. “Wh… _what?_ How did you…?”

“I’m… I’m Mr. Drosselmeyer’s grandson.” Fakir stared down at his plate, his fingers tapping out an erratic rhythm on the scarred table. “I know—I’m not supposed to reveal that, or to talk about… how you’re all putting on a show.” He swallowed. “But I just couldn’t… it didn’t feel right to keep being dishonest with you, not after how kind you’ve been to me. Not when… I feel like we’re friends.”

Ahiru laid one of her tiny hands over his much bigger one, quieting the tapping. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m sure you didn’t want to get any of us in trouble.”

“No, I didn’t.” He shook his head and looked up at her. “That’s why I waited till just now to say anything to you—I wanted to be sure we were somewhere that would let us have at least a little privacy, away from everyone else. I don’t know which person in this bunch is reporting to my grandfather, so it’s better to be careful.”

Ahiru tilted her head. “It’s not you? I would’ve thought he’d enlist you so he wouldn’t have to pay someone else.”

“I know, right?” Fakir laughed. “It surprised me too. But he said he wanted me to be able to concentrate on the experience of the thing, and that he had enough salaried employees who could do it so they might as well earn their keep.”

Ahiru wrinkled her nose. “Okay, yeah, that sounds right.” She paused, and then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh no! I’m sorry! I don’t mean to badmouth your grandfather to your face!”

“Oh, trust me, for any one bad thing you can say about him, I bet I’ve got ten.” Fakir rolled his eyes. “We… don’t really get along. I have a feeling he’d rather hand over the reins of the company—and all the money that goes with it—to my cousin, if I wasn’t in the way. But everything’s about appearances with him, so he wouldn’t stand for a family scandal, even if he wasn’t alive to see it.” Fakir shrugged. “Never mind that I’ve got no interest in running it, and will probably dissolve it. I doubt he suspects that, though.”

Ahiru stared again. “Dissolve it? You would? Really?”

“Yeah.” Fakir broke off a piece of cheese and popped it in his mouth, eating it before continuing. “I think he wanted me to come on this trip so I could get a better appreciation for what he does. But all I see is a world being exploited with no regard for the real people who live here, treated like characters in a cheap, cookie cutter novel written by someone who’s done research on approximately zero percent of the things they write about.” He took a long pull of ale. “Tell me, what’s the real name of this town? It can’t _actually_ be Sto'ven.”

“It’s Stonehaven,” Ahiru said with a giggle. “Mr. Drosselmeyer likes to rename stuff to give it a more 'exotic touch’, and he insists on the apostrophes every time for the authenticity.”

“Yes, his authentic fantasyland aesthetic.” Fakir rolled his eyes again. “Gotta sell the image everyone’s expecting, no matter what the reality is.”

“Our reality is inconvenient to him.” Ahiru sighed. “Like, our Wizard Guide? His name’s Felix Katz, but that’s not wizardly enough for them. And he’s not allowed to talk about his wife and kids, cause wizards are supposed to be eternal bachelors. I could go on, but I don’t want to bore you.”

“You’re not boring. Don’t worry.” He shook his head, and she felt her cheeks heat up. “And anyway, I want to know this stuff. Gives me ammo for when I inherit this operation and need to justify shutting it down.” He tore off more bread. “Am I right in guessing that nobody here would object to that?”

“I… don’t know about nobody, there are probably people who’ve found a way to personally profit off this nonsense, but for the most part… yeah, I think a lot of people would be overjoyed.” Ahiru gulped down some water. “It’s hell on our infrastructure and agriculture, to name just a couple things, and I’ve heard old people complaining about how the wizard university is a shell of what it used to be, now that all they teach is stuff useful for the tours and discourage original thinking. Even at Bardic College they concentrate on the kind of music that the Pilgrim Parties expect to hear, and if you want to learn other genres or try to create anything new, well, you’re out of luck. They might change that now that people are talking about refusing to be in these, since tour bards have such a high death rate, but still.”

“Wait, what?” Fakir frowned, and a look of alarm came into his eyes. “High death rate? Why?”

“Well, for whatever reason, Mr. Drosselmeyer and his agents seem to see us all as pretty expendable. I don’t know why… but it means that a lot of bards ending up dying on these tours.”

Fakir’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched with barely held back anger. “All the more reason to stop these inane things.” He hesitated, and then reached across the table to touch her hand. Ahiru’s stomach jumped at the sensation, and her heart fluttered a little. “What about you? Are you gonna be alright? Is there any way you can just… pack up and go home so you won’t be in so much danger?”

Ahiru shook her head. “If I tried it, I’d be fined. And Mr. Drosselmeyer’s fines are nothing to sneeze at. I know a bard who’s _still_ in debt, two years later, from all the money he had to borrow to pay off a fine, just because he played the wrong genre of song on a tour.”

“Ugh.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Then… be careful, all right? And… I’ll do what I can too, to help keep you safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Even the common room’s fire couldn’t hold a candle to the blaze his words set in Ahiru’s face. “Th-thank you…”

Fakir smiled.

* * *

Thunder rumbled menacingly in the sky overhead as Ahiru rooted through Mr. Katz’ bag. She paused in her search to scowl up at the darkening sky before resuming her task. Rain could be nice when you were at home reading a book or practicing music, with something hot to drink and good food, but not when you were out on the road with flimsy protection from the elements solely because of Mr. Drosselmeyer’s insistence on adhering to his particular aesthetic. How close was he to dying or retiring? Hopefully very close. She hated to wish death on anyone, but after all the death and misery he’d been responsible for in her world, Ahiru couldn’t help but want him to be gone in any way, especially now that she knew that his heir was determined to put an end to all this. For the first time in her life, Ahiru had some hope that things would change.

First things first, though. Mr. Katz had asked her to review their itinerary while he set up camp. The only problem was that he wasn’t really the most organized person, which was honestly surprising. But then, maybe it was for show, to create the image of an absent-minded wizard who couldn’t be bothered with mundane things. Ahiru rolled her eyes and kept looking.

Finally, it presented itself, attached to the list of Pilgrims who were in this particular group. Ahiru would’ve flipped past it, if something on it hadn’t caught her eye and made her blood run cold. Next to the name 'F. Grunewald” was the letter X, followed by “B or G”. The X meant that Fakir was expendable, and that Mr. Katz was to arrange for him to be killed either by bandits or gladiators.

Everyone in Mr. Drosselmeyer’s world knew that Pilgrims sometimes died on the tours. It was why they were required to buy expensive insurance as part of the package. Ahiru would’ve thought that’d have deterred people and driven down business, but it didn’t seem to have. Then again, people from that world seemed to engage in all kinds of risky behaviors for sport or entertainment, so maybe they were just… different there. The thing most of them _didn’t_ know, though, was that the deaths were anything but random. Being marked as Expendable on a Wizard Guide’s list meant that someone had it out for you back home, and this was their way of offing you while, presumably, skirting any pesky laws at home that prevented you doing the deed yourself without any consequences. It was a disgusting and well-established part of the whole affair.

And up until now, it’d been a fairly abstract one for Ahiru—horrifying, yes, but not something she’d ever seen firsthand. The tour group she’d been assigned to last year, fresh out of Bardic College, hadn’t had any Expendables in it. But now it was shatteringly, _devastatingly_ real and personal for her. Her hands shook, and she almost dropped the papers onto the muddy ground. Fakir… Fakir was going to _die_. There was no mistaking it. His was the only name in their whole group that started with an F. And given all that he’d told her about his desire to shut down the tours, and his tense relationship with his grandfather, it made a horrible kind of sense. Mr. Drosselmeyer obviously knew more than he was letting on about Fakir’s secret plans, and was using this tour to quietly get him out of the way. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to use him as the party informant!

Her eyes burned with tears, making it difficult to read as she scanned the itinerary sheet. When were the bandits arriving? All she knew was that the planned bandit attack came first—they still had about a week to go before they got to Costameret, where they’d be kidnapped and made to fight in a gladiator arena before their 'miraculous’ escape. Either one would serve Mr. Drosselmeyer’s narrative purposes well: dying in a bandit raid would give Fakir a senseless, random death that made their quest more serious, while going down at the hands of gladiators would add urgency to their efforts to escape and would make a super dramatic show besides. Which one was Mr. Katz likely to go with? Ahiru realized she didn’t know.

There. The bandit attack. It wasn’t scheduled for a few more nights yet. Tonight at dinner was the procession of elves through the wood they’d camped by, going west to the sea (translation: the seaside resort that some of them ran, and an awful lot frequented), and tomorrow was a haunting at some fake standing stones. Mr. Katz was going to create a convincing, if harmless, illusion of some angry, restless ghosts. After that was the bandits.

Two days. That was all she had to think of a way to save Fakir, assuming that Mr. Katz wanted to get the whole nasty business over with as soon as possible. Some Wizard Guides were like that. Mr. Katz might be the same way. That was almost better, kind of, because it was far riskier to try and get round the whole kidnapping business, not to mention that she wouldn’t be allowed into any arena fights and would have her cwidder confiscated so that she couldn’t perform any mass sleeping spells, but it also gave her an alarmingly short amount of time to come up with a plan. It had to be a good one, too—Fakir wasn’t just any ordinary Pilgrim. Regular ones were already barred from staying here, but the grandson of the man behind all this? Too high-profile to just disappear without a serious investigation. What was she going to _do?_

Well, right now she had to try not to cry, and pretend everything was all right, because dinner was just about ready and she needed to be in the middle of a song when the elves walked by, so that she could stop playing out of sheer awe at their appearance, just for dramatic effect. Ahiru wiped at her eyes, stuffed the papers back into Mr. Katz’ bag, and went to rejoin everyone else.

She’d think of _something_. She _had_ to.

* * *

Ahiru shivered. In a way, she hadn’t stopped shivering since she’d seen those awful letters next to Fakir’s name. Tomorrow night. She had to do something before tomorrow night. But _what?_ The tour itself kept her so busy that she had barely any time to think. Right now, when she was ostensibly supposed to be tuning her cwidder and getting ready for the evening performance, seemed like a good time, but she was so stressed that it made her mind go blank. As it was, she was finding it hard to remember the songs she needed for tonight.

She was so absorbed in her despairing thoughts that she barely noticed Mr. Katz sitting beside her. The Pilgrim Party was talking amongst themselves around the campfire a little ways below the rocky hillside Ahiru had situated herself on. She started in surprise when he sat down and cleared his throat. “Good evening.”

“G-good evening,” she managed. “Don’t-don’t you need to be keeping an eye on them, though?”

“I can do that fine from up here. They don’t seem likely to cause any major disasters just now anyway.”

“Oh… okay.”

There was silence for another minute, and then Mr. Katz spoke again. “Do you know what my particular specialty in the realm of magic is?”

“Um…” Ahiru bit her lip. “Not… not really? Sorry…”

“It is alright.” Mr. Katz cleared his throat again. “It is illusions. Illusions, and the transfiguration of one thing into another, that a rock may appear to be a frog, or a bundle of twigs a human corpse. You will have seen the latter in action already, when I performed necromancy a few days ago.”

“Yeah… yeah, I remember that.” Ahiru’s fingers stilled on the strings. “It… looked so real.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “Did you know also that sometimes people simply go missing in the course of these tours?”

A loud twang answered him first; Ahiru couldn’t help it, her finger slipped. “I… n-no, I didn’t.”

“They do.” Mr. Katz nodded. “And for years that was seen as being the same thing as dead, for people did not tend to reappear. And in the confusion of war battles, that can happen, even offworld. Everyone knows that.”

Ahiru found that she could barely breathe. “And… it’s not the same now…?”

“Not quite, no.” He shrugged. “I hear that a thing called a Missing Persons Bureau has gotten involved, so now Mr. Drosselmeyer and his agents are spooked. Calling for there to be witnesses, evidence. But even those requirements can be got round if you know how.”

“How…” Ahiru swallowed. “How do you mean?”

“Well…” His mustache quivered. “For one thing, in the chaos and confusion of a bandit attack in the night, not all things are seen clearly. Or at all. Only one person needs to catch a glimpse of something tragic _seem_ ing to happen. And in the aftermath, a well-constructed illusion cast over a bundle of twigs shall suffice for a corpse that can be burned with the rest, as per tradition.”

“Mr. Katz…” Ahiru’s voice was barely audible. “Are you… are you saying what I think you’re saying…?”

“I am having an intellectual conversation with a colleague.” He smiled benignly at her, but his eyes had a shrewd glint to them beneath the bushy eyebrows he carefully stuck on every morning before breakfast. “Simply an exercise of the mind, nothing more. What you choose to do with the information is your decision.”

With that, he stood and walked back down to the campfire, leaving Ahiru trembling with fresh determination and resolve.

And a _plan_.

* * *

Everyone was asleep. Ahiru had seen to that.

It’d been a simple, but effective plan. First, she’d slipped some herbs into Fakir’s bowl of stew at dinner, so that he would need to relieve himself more than usual that night. That ensured that he’d be a safe distance away when everyone else was in under their blankets. Which meant that the soft tune she played on her cwidder to send them into an enchanted sleep didn’t affect him. So he alone was sleeping normally, and able to be awoken without anyone else being roused. The bandits were scheduled to be here within two hours. So she needed to act now.

Ahiru had already hidden some of her possessions in Fakir’s bag and secured it to his horse. They could ride together, and indeed, would have to. Horses bolting during an attack did happen, that was another fact of the tours. But for both of their horses to conveniently disappear at the same time? That was too much of a coincidence, and one that would surely be noticed. So she’d left the bulk of her things attached to her own pony, and secured said pony with the others. It would probably be safest to leave her cwidder there too, but she couldn’t bear to part with it. Mr. Katz would likely create an illusion of it, anyway, to go with the one of her corpse. Heck, for dramatic effect he’d probably have it crushed under her body.

That was for him to worry about, though. She needed to wake Fakir and get him out of here while there was plenty of time for a good head start. She crept towards his sleeping form, and knelt beside him. “Hey… hey, Fakir.” Ahiru took hold of his shoulders and gently shook him. “Wake up, wake up.”

“Hnnn… Ahiru?” He blinked blearily up at her. “What’s going on?”

“Shhhh!” Ahiru shook her head. “Be quiet, and get up, and come with me. And hurry!”

“What? Why?” He did what she said, though, and followed her towards the horse. “Ahiru, what’s going on? What’s this about?”

“We’re running away. Just you and me. Mr. Katz will cover for us.” Ahiru untied the horse. “Come on, help me on, I’m too little to climb up by myself.”

“Running away?” Fakir stared at her. “Why? Am I… is this a dream? I’m not still asleep, am I?”

“No. But you’re expendable.” Her voice wobbled. “I mean, that’s what they marked you down as. Mr. Katz is supposed to see to it that you either die in the bandit attack tonight, or in the gladiator arena when we get kidnapped in Costameret.”

Fakir went very still. “Ex…expendable? Is that…”

Ahiru made a noise of frustration. “Look, I’ll explain the whole thing later, okay? We have to get out of here now, while we can get a good head start, and just in case the bandits are early. Come _on!_ ”

Fakir looked like he wanted a full explanation _now_ , but he obeyed. He got himself and Ahiru onto the horse’s back, and then they rode off together into the night.

Neither one said a word for a while, not till they’d dismounted at a stream to give the horse a break, as the sky turned grey over their heads. Fakir was the first one to speak. “Alright. Explain everything now. I have a feeling I know what’s happened, but I want to hear it from you.”

Ahiru launched into an explanation that left out nothing—what she’d seen on the list, what it meant, what it was to be expendable and how you got to have that status, and the conversation with Mr. Katz. “So you see, I couldn’t just let that happen to you!” Ahiru shook her head. “It’s too—it’s too awful! I went on a tour last year too, but we didn’t have anyone expendable with us, so it wasn’t something I’d ever had to deal with personally, and then I saw your name and those letters, and… I couldn’t let them do that to you.” She started to cry, her shoulders shaking as the tears slipped down her cheeks. “So we’re-we’re gonna get out of here, and find someplace safe, and Mr. Katz will make sure everyone thinks we’re both dead, and cause I’m just a bard nobody’ll think anything weird about it, if anything it’ll increase the tragedy and Lilie will talk about that to anyone back home who’ll listen, and… and you’ll be safe.”

“Is that really okay, though?” Fakir looked torn. “If I’m hiding here, I can’t stop the tours.”

“You can’t do that if you’re dead, either!” Ahiru choked back a sob. “And if you manage to go home alive, your grandfather will just find some other way. You know that!”

Fakir’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah… yeah, I do.” He sighed. “Oh, Ahiru, I’m so sorry… all I managed to do was give you false hope, and cause you to risk your own safety to live on the run like this.”

“Hey, it’s no more risky than staying with the party and continuing the tour.” Ahiru let out a watery laugh. “Remember? We bards are seen as being just as expendable. I might actually be safer with you.”

“If I have anything to say about it, you are.” His expression hardened. “I meant it then, and I mean it now: I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” Ahiru’s lower lip wobbled. “Besides, we can still find a way to stop the tours. Enough people are getting angry about them that _somebody’s_ gotta do something soon. Someone will find a way, and we can try to whip up public sentiment against them. You told me you write, right? Maybe you can spread anonymous pamphlets or something.”

“Maybe.” He brushed some of the tears from her cheek. “For now, though, I’m just glad to be alive. And with you.”

Ahiru smiled, and reached up to hold his hand. “Yeah. Me too.”


End file.
